Tang Contemporary Art is pleased to announce the launch of Pang Maokun's solo exhibition "The Scale of Classic" on December 21, 2024 at 4pm in Beijing 1st and 2nd Spaces. Curated by Cui Canchan, the exhibition is divided into eight sections and features more than 80 works spanning more than 40 years, including a number of classic series. Starting from classical art, Pang Maokun's paintings are intertwined with art history while at the same time directly referring to the situation of the times, and this exhibition will present his rich practice and exploration.

 

A Classical Measure

Text by Cui Cancan

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Preface

The earliest roots of Pang Maokun's artistry may lie in his father's practice of using grids to create propaganda posters—a method reminiscent of classical painting that left a lasting impression on his work. Or perhaps it stems from his youthful fascination with and reverence for Western classicism. His paintings are consistently clean, complete, and meticulously rendered, characterized by precise brushwork and accurate forms. The enduring influence of classicism has shaped his aesthetic sensibilities and formal approach, marked by balanced, symmetrical, and orderly compositions imbued with a solemn yet understated elegance.

Pang Maokun's works radiate a classical aura, carrying an eternal quality, a moral sensibility, and a spirit of inquiry unique to classical art. Yet they diverge from tradition by presenting narratives with distinctly modern beginnings, developments, and conclusions. In his paintings, classicism functions as a yardstick—a framework through which he navigates and reflects upon the varied challenges and realities that emerge across his different series.

At times, his paintings evoke scenes from modern games, not as "games" but as dramas infused with theatricality. Perhaps this reflects the true divide between postmodernism and classicism in their interpretations of the world. For Pang, the classical language serves merely as a façade; what truly matters is the worldview and spiritual essence underlying classicism, which he uses to interpret, contrast, and question today's world.

We owe much to the shifts of our era, which have provided us with a new leverage point to reevaluate classicism. This leverage point allows for reinterpretations—adaptation, repositioning, subversion, homage, or playful irreverence—filling the gaps in classical paintings, which often lacked humor and relaxation. What is the relationship between the modern figures in Pang's works and classicism? Is it merely technical? A spiritual reference? Or an attempt to draw the modern back into a confessional chamber judged by the standards of the classical?

Does classicism truly need revival? This question arises only in times far removed from the classical era itself. Pang's works across different periods may offer varied answers. In the early 1980s, classicism returned to China alongside modernism and realism, all part of a long-overdue renaissance and enlightenment. By the 1990s, it became associated with academicism and realism; as rapid social change unfolded, faith in the "eternal" values of the old and conservative eroded. Post-2000, the rise of commercialization rendered classicism too polished and aesthetically pleasing, stripping it of its original functions—its sense of tragedy, moral imperative, and metaphysical inquiry. Until today, that 'time difference' has been smoothed out.; modernity is no longer synonymous with avant-garde, nor is classicism confined to conservatism. They are now merely tools, mediums, and languages in service of artistic concepts.

These transformations, from technique to concept, are precisely due to the promises of Modernism and Postmodernism: from individual awakening and differences to the diversity and multipolarity of the world. However, under certain extreme circumstances (as Jürgen Habermas argued: modernity is an unattainable goal), this promise has devolved into a state of anxiety characterized by a lack of truth and a waning of faith.

We inhabit one world while seeking its definition in another. For Pang Maokun, this duality carries profound significance. No matter how the world transforms, he continuously searches for another yardstick to reassess it. At times, that measure is classicism; at others, it is a mirror of doubt or a transcendent spirit that maintains a deliberate distance from reality. This is why we persistently reference history, draw on experience, and seek "the other" to discern the meaning of the here and now.

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Classical Verbs and Paintings Within Paintings

When artificial intelligence becomes a replica of human intellect, does it transform and innovate the trajectory of reality and human development? This was the question Pang Maokun posed a few years ago in creating Altered Carbon. Today, the answer seems undeniably yes.

Let us temporarily set aside the debate over whether such "change" is good or bad and focus on what the artist has achieved. At the far end of the gallery is a series of fragmented works that deconstruct iconic images from classical paintings. These pieces might be interpreted as shattered classical mirrors or sharp angular light beams, made possible only by modern technology. Upon closer examination, the differences become clear: familiar faces have been replaced with distinctly modern metallic features. Sometimes it's a cold, stainless steel mask; other times, a smart hearing aid or steel bones beneath synthetic flesh. These figures appear as human-machine hybrids, juxtaposing classical art with contemporary technology.

In the central hall, scattered sketches lead us into another dimension. These works evoke a lost historical narrative: Leonardo da Vinci's anatomical studies, the Renaissance's foundational exploration of mathematics, architecture, and medicine, and the interplay of humanism and scientific discovery. One might even view Leonardo da Vinci as a "master engineer of advanced technology." Science has long shaped artistic evolution: the mirror in classical painting, Impressionism's use of light and color, and Minimalism's embrace of industrial production. Perhaps Pang Maokun is anticipating a new technological revolution in art.

On either side of the gallery, his Folding Series—what I would call "paintings within paintings"—creates yet another context. Pang places himself inside classical masterpieces: he drags a chair into Velázquez's painting and sits beside the Pope, facing the audience directly. In another work, wearing a modern wristwatch and see-through glasses, he nervously glances left and right, playing the role of Judith's new servant. Not stopping there, he dances in Rondo alongside his daughter, who sports a modern outdoor jacket, contrasting with the aristocrats' meticulously tailored outdoor attire.

This recalls a chapter in art history: classical painters, constrained by religious themes, found ways to insert personal touches into their standardized narratives. In the unnoticed corners of their works, they smuggled in private expressions, leaving behind puzzles and hidden meanings for future generations. Art historians often delight in playing detective, unraveling the identities of figures, and deciphering the metaphors embedded in famous works. Today, however, QR codes have replaced business cards, abstracting identity into symbols and references.

Perhaps years from now, these gallery pieces will themselves be the subject of archaeological inquiry. What era do they belong to? When were they created? And who is the recurring figure within these paintings?

Paintings within paintings are also time within time. They transform old works into new ones or reimagine the old through the lens of the new. This interplay grants Pang Maokun boundless freedom. What is this freedom? The value of art lies not in providing definitive answers but in offering the artist a playground for creativity and the audience a source of intrigue. As Pang Maokun himself observes, "In my understanding, folding allows time to overlap and space to be juxtaposed, creating a series, Folded Portraits, where people, events, and objects from different eras coexist. Folding can break existing constraints or disrupt harmony. Folding is both construction and deconstruction, a beginning and an end, an entry, and an exit."

 

Model and Family

The relationship between a model and a painter has long been a classic theme in the history of portraiture, a puzzle art historians eagerly attempt to decipher. However, in this gallery, the focus shifts from mystification to the unique classical sentiment in Pang Maokun's work—a heartfelt exploration of love, life, his wife, and the enduring bonds of family.

Through his paintings, we glimpse the evolution of Pang's emotional life. In 1986's Winter Sketch 1986, a red coat signifies the growing warmth of his relationship, foreshadowing their approaching marriage. In An Ordinary Day, based on a photograph from the winter of 1994, the painting marks his daughter's birth. A soft, blue glow divides the room: his wife stands outside, cradling their newborn, while the artist sits inside watching television, capturing the ordinary yet profound moments of family life. Morning Light Outside the Window portrays his wife grooming herself in the gentle light of dawn, encapsulating a serene and beautiful domestic moment. By 1996's Early Summer, their daughter has grown, her presence reflecting the passage of time and the quiet joys of parenthood.

Pang's paintings elevate these intimate, everyday moments into serene, almost transcendent reflections on family life. They invite us into his private world, rendering not just the physical scenes but the emotional depth of a shared existence.

Yet these works are not mere loving records of daily life, they are not merely simple records of what the artist saw. Instead, Pang distills fleeting, mundane moments, imbuing them with layers of memory, imagery, and intentional composition. He rarely settles for initial inspiration alone—it must be transformed, ritualized, and endowed with a timeless quality, elevating the ordinary into something enduring and profound.

 

Scenes of the Night

In contrast to Pang Maokun's typical focus on portraiture, this space presents a rare collection of his large-scale landscape works. These paintings expand his artistic horizons while complementing the themes explored in his Altered Carbon series, offering a poetic reinterpretation of portraiture through the lens of nature and environment.

Three works, all titled Silent Night, share a thematic unity, capturing nighttime landscapes that blend modernity with classical ideals. These paintings are silent meditations on the essence of distant, timeless nights.

Light permeates the scenes, but the soft, classical glow is replaced by the artificial luminance of modern streetlamps. Beneath their glow, a new tension unfolds—a quiet confrontation between the spirit of classicism and the presence of modern technology. In two sepia-toned works, reminiscent of Rembrandt's dramatic chiaroscuro or Goya's somber reflections on conflict, a small robotic dog confronts a massive pile of rocks blocking its path. This image of technological ambition thwarted by primal, immovable forces evokes the Sisyphean myth of endless struggle.

On the other side, a weathered wall evokes the textured backdrops of classical art, blurring the line between fabric and ancient ruins. Through dramatic distortions of perspective, Pang creates a poignant tableau: two cars and a robot, dwarfed by the night and isolated under the shadow of uncertainty. The scene brims with loneliness, and the viewer becomes a silent witness to this fleeting yet timeless moment.

At the gallery's end, a layered tunnel beckons, offering a contemplative reflection on modern technology's trajectory. In the vast continuum of history or the infinite possibilities of the future, what awaits humanity? As unbridled desires and technological advancements accelerate, will the path ahead be one of enlightenment or an encroaching shadow? In this uncertain journey, where can we rediscover the spiritual home we long for?

 

An Eternal Symphony

The second gallery space opens with a selection of Pang Maokun's works from the mid-1990s, drawn from the Minsheng Art Museum collection. These pieces are not only emblematic of his artistry during that period but also serve as a poignant chronicle of time's passage.

In these works, "light" takes center stage, connecting time, nature, and human presence while preserving the mystery and tranquility of classicism. The emotions conveyed are devout and sincere. Unlike realism, these paintings—though inspired by the ordinary and often mundane moments of Pang's 1990s life—are imbued with the qualities of "memory" and "impression," maintaining a distance that feels both intimate and transcendent. They capture fleeting moments of emotional resonance and painterly inspiration, bearing a subtle surrealist quality.

Shadows cast on desert sands, the golden hues of summer, or a soft beam of lamplight piercing the night—Pang carefully constructs these delicate atmospheres and scenes. His mastery of floating figures, nuanced shadows, and seamless transitions creates a harmonious blend of light and color, lending his work an almost dreamlike quality. These scenes thus resemble 'dreams,' revealing to us the existence of life. In this poetic exploration, humans become ephemeral shadows — elusive yet ever - present within our deepest consciousness—reflecting unspoken sorrows and quiet epiphanies.

How can we comprehend this paradox of eternity born from fleeting moments? Perhaps theological insights provide an answer: the perpetual cycles of wind and seasons, light and shadow, day and night. These ephemeral moments of beauty, interwoven with life's transience, create an eternal symphony that resonates across time.

 

Ethnic Heritage and Cultural Roots

This gallery space features Pang Maokun's celebrated ethnic series, a cornerstone of his oeuvre spanning over three decades. These works range from his late-1980s creations to more recent sketches, depicting the diverse ethnic groups of China—from the Yi and Hmong peoples of the Southwest, where Pang resides, to the Mongols of the North, and the Hui and Uyghur communities of the Northwest.

The Yi people series is undoubtedly Pang's signature work, establishing his distinguished place in Chinese oil painting history. The 1980s marked the peak of rural realism in China, rooted in the early 20th-century efforts of artists like Dong Xiwen and Sun Zongwei to localize oil painting. This focus on borderland subjects evolved through Yuan Yunsheng's modernist-infused Water-Splashing Festival, Chen Danqing's Tibetan Series, which drew on French rural realism, and other works that celebrated the Southwest's rich cultural diversity.

In 1983, Pang journeyed to the Yi-inhabited Liangshan region, where he was profoundly moved by an ancient and unfamiliar world. Reflecting on this experience two years later, he wrote, "The Yi people live on this remote plateau like seeds in the earth—sprouting, flowering, and bearing fruit for generations. Their unique atmosphere clings to them like a hazy dream. One can sense a dormant philosophy or primordial truth in their distinct facial features, the patterns on their vessels, or the folds of their garments."

In other words, Pang's keen sensitivity revealed a deep connection between ethnic minorities and the natural world. Unlike the idyllic pastoral culture of Han China, these communities exhibit a profound reverence for nature, balancing dependence with worship. The Yi people, with a stillness as profound as stone, maintain the universe's solemnity and reverence. Their relationship with the soul, the land, and life aligns closely with the solemnity and luminous emotion of Classicism. Yet, for the painter, aesthetics remain paramount. The unique costumes, festive attire, jewelry, and dances of minority groups align seamlessly with Pang Maokun's cherished classical style, characterized by intricate ornamentation and a divine aura.

It is in this sense that the theme of minority nationalities has forged a special link between Chinese artists and Western Classicism. Only then can we fully appreciate Jin Shangyi's Tajik Bride, Wershen's Auspicious Mongolia, Chen Danqing's portrayal of light and love in Tibet, and Chao Ge's projection of emotions between Mongolia, the grassland, twilight, portraiture, and Italy.

 

Outfit of the Day

While the previous gallery space explored Pang Maokun's homage to vanishing traditions, this section shifts the focus to the present, showcasing his depictions of contemporary individuals and their unfolding narratives.

Unlike classical portraiture, which often glorifies historical figures or mythological themes, Pang's subjects are more personal—friends, vividly dressed students, or strangers encountered during his travels.

Yet these portraits share a certain unity. The figures are predominantly youthful and beautiful, captured at the height of their vibrancy. Dressed in chic, elaborate garments—flowing skirts, or bold, stylish outfits—their fashion choices reflect a modern sensibility. Their postures convey a languid grace: gazes lost in thought, bodies exuding an air of detachment. Rarely jubilant or bursting with vitality, their expressions often carry subtle melancholy, even a sense of emptiness. These qualities seem to capture the ethos of the current generation: relaxed, mildly ironic, and tinged with ennui. Their approach to "refinement" mirrors the distinct moral, emotional, and aesthetic sensibilities of today's world.

Pang Maokun exhibits a profound interest in "dressing up." In the most straightforward sense, he borrows elements commonly found in classical paintings—hats, clothing, fabric textures, skirts, and light sources—and dresses or imagines contemporary people in a classical style. However, this act of "dressing up" blurs the lines between reality and illusion, creating a sense of alienation characteristic of our time. On another level, this also signifies Pang Maokun's exploration of the ceaseless desires and aspirations, performances, spectacle, and alienation that characterize modernity. When absolute subjects and essences disappear, everything becomes merely a temporary, superficial adornment.

In a corner of the exhibition hall, the classical furniture transported from his studio presents an imagined lifestyle. This, together with the ubiquitous European-style landscapes of our time, echoes the classical backgrounds often found behind figures in his paintings, revealing a rich interplay between subject and object.

 

The World in a Mirror

At the end of the exhibition culminates in a series of works spanning from the 1990s to the present, unified by the motif of the mirror. This thematic focus invites viewers to reflect on questions posed by the artist.

The 1992 painting In front of the Mirror marks the starting point of this series, where Pang Maokun first depicted figures before a mirror. Subsequently, the Flowers in the Mirror series introduced us to more complex spaces, featuring nested reflections and the emergence of blue light photography. On another level, several portraits before mirrors guide us through a temporal journey from water reflections to the mirror world, and ultimately to the digital transformation of self-observation. Good Morning, Velázquez propels us into historical territory, reflecting on the artist's self and imagination. And Express to Venice brings this history back to the present day from distant Venice, captured in the reflective image of a camera lens on a train window.

This space weaves together physical mirrors, glass, and camera lenses with timeless art historical themes of self-reflection and identity construction.

A row of folded portrait sketches, presented in a prismatic manner, reveals the contrasts and differences between ancient and modern portraits. Over thousands of years of mirror history, the metaphorical modes of self-representation have remained relatively constant. However, with the widespread use of cameras in just a century, significant changes have occurred.

In Pang Maokun's intricate world of mirrors and folded spaces, the traditional mirror, a mere reflective surface in classical painting, is reimagined. It becomes an omnipresent yardstick, inviting us to contemplate a myriad of relationships: the self in dialogue with itself, the human gaze upon the self, the self's interaction with the world, the world's gaze upon the self, and the blurred lines between reality and virtuality, illusion and alienation.

Ultimately, this 'relationship' within the mirror, Pang's investigations return to the history of painting itself. These works remind us of the medium's enduring mystery. Like mirrors, paintings reveal worlds we can perceive but not inhabit.

Beyond the mirror lies the artist's position and gaze. He invites us to contemplate and reminds us that the ever-present "self-portraits" found in the reflections of glass, the refractions of mirrors, and the digital manipulations of selfies and posed shots, are all rooted in the ancient, metaphorical models of the selfhood in early paintings.