Yang Maoyuan 杨茂源

Amazement

Lushun

I always recall my childhood memories of Lushun every time I visit. At the time, my grandfather and I lived in his eldest daughter's home. I always played with Fourth Brother. There were almost no other types of architecture besides Russian-style buildings in Lushun back then. Bluestone-paved streets were lined with houses having colonnades and pink-and-yellow buildings. Gray warships were parked at portside at the end of the streets. The population of Lushun was quite small at the time. Most were seamen. In my memory, whenever the wind blew, the ribbons on the seamen's hats would drift away and disappear behind the yellow colonnades. Later on when I saw [surrealist Giorgio] De Chirico's paintings, the images in the paintings reinforced my memories.

[Editor’s note:  Lushunkou (formerly Lushan City, known in western and Russian historic references as Port Arthur) is part of the Dalian Administrative District. Lushan occupies the south edge of the Liaodong Peninsula. Located west of the Yellow Sea and the Korea Bay and east of the Bohai Sea, it is almost 300 miles due east of Beijing. Surrounded by sea on three sides, and with a history dating back as far as the Eastern Jin Dynasty (317-420 AD), Lushan is noted for its natural scenery.]

Sketch 1

In 1976, I painted a series of caricatures criticizing the Gang of Four and received a prize for it in Ganjingzi District. The school sent me to study painting in a youth activity center. I practiced painting a work called “Messiah” that hung on the wall. I was with classmates much older than me. I observed others and painted as they did. I couldn't understand why we had to paint it. After a long while, I suddenly realized what I was painting was someone's face [in particular], the Messiah's face. Later on, I learned that he is a character in the Old Testament.

[Editor’s note:  That the writer’s informants evidently happened to confuse the Old with the New Testament, underscores the relative unfamiliarity of Christo-Judean culture (not so surprisingly, given the place and era). Yang Maoyuan was born in 1966; thus his recollection dates to age 10. The political saga of the Gang of Four (concluding with injunctions to criticize them) was a closing chapter in China’s decade-long Cultural Revolution period (1966-1976). That Yang’s entry to artistic training came as a consequence of childhood political caricatures, seems telling of the times.]

Sketch 2

It was in sketching classes during my second year at the Central Academy of Fine Arts.

       Tan Ping said to me, “Painting still life and painting portraits are both ways of training your ability to understand and observe the relationship between objects and spaces. Without making sketches, you can still be trained in modeling in a space with a pile of wires and nails. Sketching is only one of the training methods.” Tan Ping continued, saying, “You only have to submit one sketch during eight weeks of sketching classes in order to receive a grade. You can spend the rest of your time reading in the teacher's reading room.”

       I went there often after that but spent most of my time swimming in [Beijing’s Lake] Houhai. My mind was filled with fantasies when I swam. Fantasizing is a kind of training too. Only when art breaks free from technology, does it start to get interesting.

Enlightenment

When I was young, my neighbor, a young guy, told me a horror story about a Taiwanese secret agent sabotaging the Nanjing Yangtze River Bridge. It was the “Green Corpse” story. Whenever he got to tense parts, he would suddenly cry out with horror. I almost fainted from fright. But every time I regained consciousness, I would still want to listen to the rest of the story. He would say that he was too hungry to go on. I had to go home and bring him some food to eat. Then I would faint again by the time he reached the scary parts. Afterwards, I would be too terrified to go to the toilet. The other kids always made fun of me because of this. So I told them the story. As a result, they stopped laughing at me. Every night when we had to go to the toilet, a few of us would go together.

       Almost every kid around my age knew the “Green Corpse” story during that time. It might be considered my enlightenment [启蒙qǐmēng]. I learned about things such as a black leather handbag with the characters “Shanghai” printed on it, the Yangtze River Bridge, and the female secret agent. Whenever I spotted a strange woman with bangs permed by pincers, I would imagine that she was a female secret agent.

Sea

The happiest thing I did in middle school was painting outdoors in nature with a group of classmates. I liked swimming on the edge of the sea. Once I turned over a big stone six meters underwater and saw a small octopus amid the muddy water. I reached out to catch it and found a huge eel close by, staring at me. I mistook it for a sea snake, so I cried out and came up immediately. I slowly reached the shore, swimming with exaggerated movements. I have become afraid of deep water and being attacked by fish since then. But I still love the sea.

Traveling

In 1987, I traveled to northwestern China. The train was fully packed. It was the “massive flow of migrant workers.” By the time the train arrived in Zhengzhou, both sides of the railway track were crammed with thousands of people. The sight was quite terrifying. The train came to a stop in the midst of the crowd. The passengers inside the train pulled down the windows but didn't dare open the doors. The stuffy atmosphere was suffocating. At the time, I had never witnessed such a massive flow of migrant workers. There was no place to escape to. I was astonished, and my ears rang. There was a young man in the crowd who held a stick in his hand and squeezed his way to the windows of the train while carrying his luggage with one end of the stick. He smashed one of the train windows with the stick and tried to climb inside the train. More people crammed into the train. I was sitting on the luggage shelf. The same young farmer pressed his way to a spot near the toilet and placed his luggage on the floor and sat on it. With the stick still in his hand, he stared straight ahead, expressionless.

[Editor’s note:  Regarding “massive flow of migrant workers,” a historian observes: “Rural reform from 1978 through 1984, which centered on the introduction of a contract system for agricultural production, marked the first stage of reform. Dissolution of communes across the country resulted in economic growth and social stability in the rural areas and this marked a major achievement for the government. At the same time, however, the long-pending issue of surplus labor in the rural area surfaced. Massive flow of migrant workers from the inland rural areas to the coastal urban areas began in the mid 1980s, causing a serious social problem.”]

1976

In the summer of 1976, on the coast of Dalian, three hundred whales committed suicide before dawn and dashed to the coast at the same time. The wind was billowing. Then it was daybreak. Over three hundred people discovered the whales. Soon, a large group of fishermen came on their horses or tractors to where the whales were. They climbed onto the bodies of these cetaceans and disemboweled them with sickles, saws and axes, uploaded them onto their cars, and went away.

       By noon, there were only pools of blood on the coast and the sea was tainted with blood.

Trains

When I was small, my dream was to become a train conductor. I wanted to wear a uniform like Li Yuhe and to go wherever I wished. Every time I went downstairs and saw the train pulling into the station, I would imagine being a conductor. Strangers getting off the train and walking onto the platforms carried with them an aroma that only existed in the far distance. I would think to myself, "I want to be like them when I grow up and go to far-away places," and I’d feel very pleased.

[Editor’s note:  Li Yuhe, a railroad worker, is the fictional hero of The Legend of the Red Lantern, one of the Eight Model Plays (the only operas and ballets permitted during the Cultural Revolution period in China). This tale appeared first as a Beijing Opera, later in other musical and dance forms.]

Going to school

To this day I still don't understand why the school was called Anti-Japanese University when I attended first grade. Since my handwriting was good, I became the top-ranked junior Red Guard in my class. During the second semester at Anti-Japanese University, I saw my first movie. It was called The Eighth Statue Out of Bronze, an Albanian film. What impressed me most was a scene that involved someone slaughtering a sheep in a room that had blood splattered on the ceiling.

I'm not sure why, but a few classmates and I became fascinated with jumping onto trains. The tracks that passed by the square in front of my house were crooked so that trains would have to slow down. That was where we jumped onto trains. My favorite was the kind of railroad car without a locomotive, which was released from the last stop. I liked climbing onto the front of the railroad car, turning the dial on top of the car to control its speed. The wind was very strong and it felt comfortable. We ran across the road as adults pointed at us. These railroad cars were going into the entrance of the steel-rolling mill at the next turn. Soon there would be the heavy, crashing sound of dominoes.

The route was only a few minutes away from Anti-Japanese University. We would always get off the railroad from there, stand up and listen to the bursts of domino-like heavy, crashing sounds. The exhilaration might be compared to how adults tremble with comfort after urinating.

[Editor’s note:  The school referenced by Yang was established in the 1960s. Compare:

“The revolutionary and progressive characteristics of this university are due to the revolutionary and progressive characteristics of its staff and its courses.

“The educational principles of the university are: ‘Correct political orientation, plain, hard-working style, flexible strategy and tactics’.” – Mao Zedong, from “The Anti-Japanese Military and Political University” (1966, Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung)

The film referenced by Yang is probably I teti ne bronz (also known as The Bronze Bust, 1970, directed by Viktor Gjika). An Albanian cinema industry developed around this period. Albania was known as the People’s Republic of Albania from 1946-1976, and as the Socialist People’s Republic of Albania (under Communist rule) from 1976-1992.]

On the way to Xilinhaote

On the way to Xilinhaote from Beijing, the road crossed the Otindag Sandland and intersected the railroad. Fifteen kilometers west of the road was a very long, flat-peaked mountain, like a high wall that was over ten kilometers long. I tried to imagine what it would be like to walk on top of the mountain. It was nine years ago. According to studies, this is a volcanic region.

[Editor’s note:  Xilinhaote is a major city in Inner Mongolia, and Otindag Sandland is a semi-arid area in Inner Mongolia. Yang Maoyuan was born and raised in Dalian, China; but his familial ancestors lived in Inner Mongolia.]

Watermelons

It was in Xinjiang in 1987. In Urho. I walked around Devil's Town for a whole day and became extremely thirsty. I discovered a plant in the desert. There were a few balls on the rough vines, each as big as a fist. The balls were gray yellow, with thorns. A few gray green warts grew at the base of the balls. When I opened the balls, I realized that they were watermelons. They were very sweet but couldn't satisfy my thirst. The warts were leaves. I suspected that they had been growing in that place for many years.

[Editor’s note:  Xinjiang (i.e., the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region) is a large, sparsely populated, northwestern area comprising approximately one-sixth of China’s territory. Yang spent time exploring and working artistically in this region – as noted in Wolf Gunter Thiel’s essay about Yang’s work. Urho is a district in Xinjiang; Windy Town, also known as Devil’s Town, is to the southeast near Urho. Land was eroded by wind into hills with strange shapes (like devils or monsters). This is the Gobi Desert.]

Lao Xu the painter

Lao Xu the painter worked in Hutan Amusement Park after 1990. He was under the strict leadership of a director and seven section chiefs. As a result, Lao Xu often attended to one and offended another. He felt exhausted and unhappy. One day, Lao Xu came out of his office and ran right into a section chief, who asked: “Lao Xu, where are you going?” Lao Xu replied, “I am going forward.”

[Editor’s note:  Hutan (Tiger’s Beach) Amusement Park is located in Dalian. Lao Xu (“Old Xu”) was a local artist.]

Monsoon

A few of us were in Baoliang's home on the second floor. One of the windows was slightly ajar. A small girl was about to close the window when a scorching cloud of indistinguishable gas drifted into the house. A few of us followed the little fireball with our eyes in astonishment. After a while, the smoke went out the window. The cloud has caused several stage photos of model operas on the wall to catch on fire.

       The fireball that went out of Baoliang's home halved a big pagoda tree in the middle of the square. White smoke rose from the branches. Even in the rain, the fire lasted till evening.

       The next day, there was a crash. I went downstairs and saw the big pagoda tree that just fell on the square. It covered the whole square and was surrounded by people. Something under the tree had been burned to charcoal. Baoliang was standing by himself near the base, crying. No one could stop him. He went on crying until he lost his voice.

       That night, Baoliang's dad died. On the way home from work, his father was struck by lightening and burned to charcoal. His body turned into the size of a newborn child. Many people were around him when it happened.

[Editor’s note:  Styphnolobium japonicum, the Japanese pagoda tree (aka the Chinese scholar tree), native to eastern Asia (mainly China), grows into a lofty tree, 10-20 meters tall.]

Huang Xianer [Huang the young Shaman]

One of our neighbors was a widow who lived with her adopted son. I don't know why, but I was terrified of her. One day the old widow fell in the courtyard, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. A Chinese doctor came but couldn't figure out her illness. Her adopted son was very anxious. He was told that evil spirits possessed her, so he hired a Shaman [大仙 daxian, a female Shaman or folk occultist] to make spells.

       The young Shaman hung pieces of red cloth all around the house and mumbled prayers. She sprinkled white spirit all over the house. She ordered the adopted son to kneel and hit the floor with a peach tree twig. Afterwards, a crowd of people followed the young shaman to the haystack by the tree outside the yard.

       It was a faded haystack that had not been used in years.

       The young Shaman pointed at the haystack and a few men removed it. There was a circle on the floor. A weasel was lying on its back, convulsing like the old widow.

       The young Shaman pointed at the weasel with a peach tree twig and mumbled something. After a while, the weasel got up and walked away calmly, disappearing amidst the legs of the crowd.

       I peeked through the gaps between the legs in the crowd and saw the old widow slowly sitting up.

Geese

There is a place called Baiyanghe on the west side of Karamay, in a village called Kazakh. Yu Le and I took two students to live in the doctor's home on the north side of the village. She was the only Han person in this village. We drank at night and there was nothing to eat. I suggested we get a goose to eat. Yu Le agreed. He took a rolling pin and walked out the door with me. When we arrived in the afternoon, we saw many white geese in the pool by the edge of the village.

The moonlight was beautiful that night

A flock of white geese slept on the open ground in the middle of the village. The flock glistened under the moonlight. Four or five large geese craned their necks and looked around while standing amidst their flock. They looked at Yu Le and me. I was slightly taken aback. The flock became agitated in a uniform fashion, quacking and walking slowly away. Fearless from the alcohol, Yu Le and I followed them. The flock started to run. One goose strayed from the flock. Yu Le struck it, grabbed it, turned around and ran away. I ran after him.

       By the time Yu Le got to the front of the house, I discovered that the goose flock was right behind us. I was shocked and said, “Don't go inside. Let's run around the village and get rid of them.”

       Under the moonlight, Yu Le and I ran with the goose and a flock of geese chasing closely after us.

       Eventually we got rid of the flock. I looked around to make sure they were gone, and followed Yu Le into the house.

       The doctor removed the feathers of the goose and I cut it up into pieces. Yu Le set the wine glasses. The doctor was busy cooking. A student went outside to fetch some water and cried out. I looked in the direction the door. Under the moonlight, I saw that a large flock of white geese had surrounded the house around the fence of the yard. They stood in a few rows, sticking their heads inside the fence. The doctor got anxious too. She said that if the Kazakh were to discover it, we would be in deep trouble. I asked two students to lead the geese away from the house. They tried but were too afraid to do it. The sound of the geese was very loud. I took a look again and went back inside to think of a solution. The goose meat smelled good in the pot. The students buried the goose feathers in the yard, while the flock watched them. The house grew very quiet. We were expecting the worst.

       After a long while, a chanticleer crowed, heralding the daylight. A few dogs barked.

       One of the students suddenly said that the flock had left. Sure enough, it was absolutely empty outside the fence, with a lot of goose footprints on the ground. Soon sunshine poured into the yard. The doctor asked the students to go and sweep away the footprints on the road. It was as if nothing had happened. I was confused. It was as if nothing had really happened. I turned back and saw that the goose meat had stewed in the pot throughout the night.

       The meat smelled delicious but it was impossible to take a bite.

[Editor’s note:  Karamay is a city in Xinjiang (the name being an Uygur word meaning “black oil”). “Han person” means, ethnically, a person belonging to the principal Chinese race – as distinguished from the Uygur people who populate the Xinjiang region.]

[Editor’s note:  This prose Amazement was written by the artist dating from 1999-2003, shares the artist’s recollections. Such reflective writing has many literary antecedents, no doubt. Musings and stories from an artist seem at least as effective (even if more elliptical) a method of communicating something about the origins of his work, if compared with statements and formulations. Reading these brief tales, we wander in Yang Maoyuan’s field of thought, becoming acquainted with some elements of his inner life, with some of his experiences and values. All autobiographical texts locate the writer in time, place, and culture. Their merit involves the personal tone they carry. The title of his sequence – Amazement – seems worth bearing in mind when contemplating Yang Maoyuan’s artwork in any of its forms and phases. Yang’s stories might remind some readers of John Cage’s anecdotes. Cage’s storytelling form owed something to his exposure to Zen literature; but the Zen (Chan) story per se itself flows from Chinese antecedents such as Zhuangzi [Chu’ang Tzu]. Yang’s item called “enlightenment” perhaps ironically evokes such sources. An interest in the anecdotal informed the culture of old literati [文人wenren] painters – a tradition strong in China for long centuries. Yang works as a contemporary in innovative ways, yet olden Chinese art culture is in his bones.] Amazement was initially published (in both Chinese and English) in a catalog, Look Inside (2006). Editorial notes in this newly-revised, English version (2008) have been contributed by David Raphael Israel (Other Shore Arts Institute).]