Forewords：
The flowing lines in Chen Duxi's paintings oscillate between representation and abstraction. From a distance, they evoke natural phenomena; up close, they reveal intricate variations in texture and detail. These lines create not just a visual display but a sensory and emotional journey. As the artist observed, his exploration of water extends beyond the purely visual. While his artistic practice ultimately manifests in images, its creation integrates bodily perceptions of the environment, imagination shaped by memory, and the interplay of music and sound. Revisiting Duxi's Chi Yi (Contemplate) series after the interview, the paintings exude a quality of translucency. The strokes are not mere references to distant subjects elusive to the audience, but records of continuous, profound meditation. Similar to the reiteration of language or the chanting of a mantra, these strokes become a medium for reflection and communication, inviting viewers to explore their own experiences and the fluxing shape of the present.
In this interview, Chen Duxi explores the evolution of his artistic practice and shares the philosophical foundations of his work. The conversation unfolds in three parts: the first examines the development of the Chi Yi series, his creative process, and his distinctive perspectives on painting; the second reflects on how his early experiences with music and oil painting have shaped his practice; and the third delves into his artistic worldview, which crystallizes in his creations. Chen's art builds on his passion for tradition and his early career in oil painting, drawing inspiration from a vast reservoir of knowledge about civilizations and art across cultures and eras. His practice transcends the binary of East and West that has long dominated the art historical canon. By emphasizing the universal significance of artistic expression in human experience, Chen seeks to reconcile oppositions, navigating their complexity with a vision of harmony.
This interview was conducted and compiled during Chen Duxi's solo exhibition, Subjective Realm: Between Form and Flow, at the Fu Qiumeng Fine Art in January, 2025.
Chen Duxi, Subject Realm: Between Form and Flow, Exhibition View ©The FQM, 2025
The Evolution of ChiYi (Contemplate) Series and the Understanding of Painting
Zhang: When did the ChiYi series begin?
Chen: The ChiYi series started around 2013 during an outdoor sketching session in Dujiangyan, Sichuan (都江堰, 四川). Previously, I had always used oil paints or fine-liner pens to create intricate lines. It was during that sketching session that I accidentally discovered how much better the brush and ink suited what I wanted to express, in comparison to oil painting. Prior to that experience, I felt that I shouldn’t use traditional media to create works related to tradition. I believed that as a contemporary artist, I needed to emphasize my modernity and uniqueness. Looking back now, that mindset feels a bit “paradoxical.”
Artist Studio ©Courtesy of the Artist
Zhang: What changes have these years brought?
Chen: The biggest change over the years has been in myself—my experiences as a cognitive being and my understanding of objects. Extensive practice in painting has helped me refine the coordination between my hand, the brush, and my mind. Over time, I’ve come to accept imperfections in my lines rather than forcing control over them. I allow them to exist as they are, presenting their natural state. And by embracing them, my lines and my movements naturally extend with a sense of flow. Unconsciously, I am no longer just the "creator." The boundary between myself and the painting has dissolved, and my relationship with the objects I depict has grown more ambiguous.
For this series, what has remained constant over the years is the element of the line and how I use it to depict objects. Yet, this depiction has also evolved. To me, it now is less about tracing the contours of objects with lines and more about developing a tactile sensation that extends beyond the physical body.
Contemplate - 11 , Mineral color pigment on silk, 55 x 75 cm, 2015 ©Courtesy of the Artist
Contemplate - 37, Mineral color pigment on silk, 100 x 150cm，2019 ©Courtesy of the Artist
Contemplate-Create A Lively Style, Mineral color pigment on silk, 36 x 48 cm，2024 ©The FQM
Zhang: How do the works in this exhibition, “Subjective World: Between Form and Flow,” differ from the previous ones?
Chen: I see this body of work as an extension of the foundational concepts in the ChiYi series. For example, Towards Remote Antiquity expands the framework of ChiYi – using lines as a medium to explore the fluidity of all things – and leads to the discovery of new possibilities. In this painting, the waterfall doesn’t follow the laws of physics but instead hangs like a papercut over the rocks. I no longer attach the lines strictly to objective objects; instead, the subjects become collages on a flat surface. This form of collage isn’t just traditional "collage art," nor does it mimic the spatial fragmentation of Cubism. Instead, it seeks to disrupt the fixed notions of time and space. It’s akin to Chinese handscroll landscape paintings, where a single image can present different times, spaces, or even seasons. Or, like a film, where a story is shown from multiple perspectives to build interconnections. This approach could be a new thread, one that may further unfold in my future works.
Contemplate-Towards Remote Antiquity, Mineral color pigment on silk, 50 x 70 cm，2024 ©The FQM
Zhang: In our previous conversations, you mentioned that you don’t see an absolute distinction between good and bad in art. So, what kind of work would you consider satisfying?
Chen: It’s not that there’s no distinction between good and bad, but that the standards for "good" are constantly evolving. Across time and cultures, we’ve seen painting progress from highly rigorous forms to a state of almost limitless freedom, though still within the boundaries of the medium itself. The concept of "good" has also undergone iterations and shifts. For me, my earlier understanding of "good" focused on the completeness of the composition, the precision of execution, or whether the work effectively conveyed its intended meaning. This standard has since expanded. I believe this evolution is more an internal process than an external one. By "internal," I don’t just mean improvements in technique or a wider knowledge but a deeper progression in my perspective—my jingjie (realm of understanding, 境界). In a Chinese context, it’s akin to the process of xiuxian (cultivating immortality, 修仙), striving for yuanman (ultimate perfection, 圆满). Simply put, no matter how polished or flawless a painting might appear, if it lacks substance beneath the surface, I find it meaningless.
Now, for me, a work I consider satisfying begins with a sense of ease in the creative process, while still maintaining clear intent and focus on its subject. This underlying focus is something I’ve always emphasized. In my viewing experience, whether it's ancient or contemporary artwork, a truly good piece is one that can hold your attention for a long time. It communicates the artist’s conviction and serves as their response to the world. It may convey profound contemplation or carefree ease, but there is always a message embedded within it.
Zhang: What is your usual routine before painting?
Chen: I usually start by gathering subjects for my work, such as taking photographs or spending time immersed in a particular scenery. After collecting these materials, I let them sit for a while. When I’m ready to begin, I revisit and organize them, looking for the most compelling entry point. Then, I wait for a long time, observing patiently—much like a hunter watching for their prey.
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Water images captured by the artist during travels ©Courtesy of the Artist
Contemplate-Be Yourself Be Free, Mineral color pigment on silk, 36 x 48 cm，2024 ©The FQM
Zhang: It seems like this waiting is a crucial stage.
Chen: That’s because the waiting has to be as unintentional as possible—you can’t wait with a fixation on achieving a specific result. Instead, I let my experiences and the scenes I observed ferment in my mind. This process can be quite grueling at times, but I suppose it’s what it takes for creation.
During this waiting period, I carry a notebook and colored pens to record my ideas. Although they’re just simple watercolor pens for kids, they allow me to quickly experiment with color relationships and compositions, providing guidance for the next stage of my work. This habit actually comes from my time in a band. Back then, instead of passively waiting while tuning instruments, I would imagine and record those ideas. Over time, as painting became more of a job, this habit faded, but in the past two years, I’ve returned to this practice, recording my observations and awareness. In doing so, I feel like I’ve rediscovered the joy of painting, much like Confucius’s idea of "playing to discover knowledge (玩索而有得)" It’s about gaining insights through play and enjoyment, rather than rigidly pursuing them through a serious demeanor.
Artist’s sketchbook © Courtesy of the Artist
Zhang: Have you visited any places recently that left a deep impression on you?
Chen: I encountered a child guarding a temple in Sri Lanka. As he stepped out of the dark temple doorway, light fell on his face, highlighting his dark, textured skin. When he looked up, his gaze was so pure and natural that it made me feel ashamed—as if I had become tainted after entering the world.
Child at the Entrance of a Sri Lankan Temple © Courtesy of the Artist
Zhang: Do you wish to return to that initial innocence, to see the world through a child’s eyes?
Chen: Exactly. To return to that childlike state—a feeling both unfamiliar and intimate—where you view the world purely, without any distractions or preconceived notions.
The Influence of Early Experiences: Surrealism and Music
Zhang: You were once a drummer in a band. How does music influence your work now? Do you listen to music while painting?
Chen: I used to love listening to Radiohead while looking at works by Dalí, Ernst, Magritte, Giorgio de Chirico, Paul Delvaux, and even Bosch from the Middle Ages. You could spend two hours immersed in Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights with a magnifying glass, losing yourself in that world. For me, viewing art always requires the company of compatible music —it makes it easier to dive directly into the world of the painting. I didn’t really understand Miró’s work back then, but now I’ve grown to appreciate it more.
These days, I particularly enjoy listening to instrumental music while I work, mainly to reduce external distractions and preserve energy. The vibrations of instruments create a calmness that helps me settle into a meditative state. However, when I was in the band, the cymbals were harsh on the ears, and I often played with earplugs because of their intensity. This heavy drumming has left me with occasional tinnitus. Interestingly, I’ve come to see tinnitus as the ultimate form of minimalism. It’s a single, continuous hum, without direction, unable to be assigned any spatial or dimensional attributes. Because it is purely a frequency, it paradoxically holds infinite possibilities. It reminds me of chanting in Buddhism or the resonant frequency that draws Siddhartha in Hermann Hesse’s novel. The frequency of tinnitus extends infinitely outward, uninterrupted, like a laser beam cutting through everything with its straight and unyielding trajectory.
Music albums the artist listened to during the creative process © Courtesy of the Artist
Zhang: This reminds me of Nam June Paik's Zen for TV—a single straight line, but it cuts across the screen of a television.
Chen: That kind of frequency might just be a rhythmic oscillation, whether auditory or visual, but it brings me a sense of continuity that fosters deep thought.
Nam June Paik, Zen for TV (1963–82) © Estate of Nam June Paik
Zhang: Yet, in my view, your paintings seem to express the irregularity of flow, especially now that your brushstrokes and compositions feel more relaxed.
Chen: It’s actually about finding unity within irregularity. This sense of unity isn’t something that can be resolved within a single painting. When you approach different objects with a continuous way of thinking, you start to see that their essence shares a sense of unity. For the ChiYi series, this unity stems in the fluidity of objects. I once saw the sea from an airplane and it suddenly felt so still like a sculpture. That moment – when I was seized by the absence of flow – was terrifying. But in truth, the ultimate form of fluidity is stillness.
Contemplate- Variations in Unity, Mineral color pigment on silk, 150 x 200 cm (panel of 2)，2024 ©The FQM
Zhang: Your paintings also convey a sense of uncanniness between movement and stillness, evoking an almost surreal, dreamlike quality. Does this connect to your earlier experiences painting surrealist oil works?
Chen: I used to study Ernst’s works, especially his landscapes that employ the technique of decalcomania to create the textures of rocks and mountains. They present a magical, otherworldly atmosphere. To me, this strangeness arises from the artist’s subjective dialogue with nature. Perhaps this resonates with me, particularly with my childhood experiences in the mountains around Sichuan.
I recall a world of rugged rocks and towering pine trees, their branches weaving a dense canopy that cloaked the space in shadow. Light pierced through the gaps, casting fleeting patterns on a forest floor thick with fallen leaves. Beneath, tiny plants pushed through the decay, their tender shoots brimming with vitality. The title of my 2024 catalogue raisonne – Between Earth and Heaven – describes such a scene of a forest shrouded in a veil of mist that blurred the lines between the tangible and the ethereal. This atmosphere—mysterious and almost sacred—hinted at something far beyond the human and the mundane. It is hard to put into words, but once witnessed, such a scene is impossible to forget. It’s much like Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams—these childhood memories extend into my subconscious, giving rise to countless imaginings of subtle, intricate scenes or even mythical stories. These mysterious visual impressions have unconsciously become part of my visual DNA, reflecting a natural relationship between my body and the landscapes of that region. Intimacy with nature is the source of all my creations.
Max Ernst, Europe After the Rain II © Wadsworth Atheneum Collection
Mountains and wilderness of Sichuan ©Courtesy of the Artist
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Between Earth and Heaven ©Courtesy of the Artist
Transcendence: Biology, Movement, and Flatness
Zhang: For someone like me who grew up in the city, nature feels distant, almost intangible. How should I approach your work?
Chen: Understanding art mirrors my process of observing nature. Viewing a painting requires an entry—a moment of immersion. In galleries, we typically line up artworks for display; this is one way of seeing. But imagine instead walking through a long corridor, encountering veils and obstructions. As you move beyond them, a pavilion emerges at the heart of a lake. In its stillness, you gently unfold the painting. Such harmony between mindset, environment, and body, enriched by language and exchange, fosters a true state of art appreciation.
The act of painting follows a similar rhythm. The heart leads the hand, and eventually leads the brush. The beginning of a stroke requires a state of quiet ambiguity, not clarity. The point of touch must be soft and undefined, yet as the brush should glide across the paper with precision, and a return to indistinctness at the conclusion. Starting a stroke is akin to entering a space; drawing creates that space, and finishing the stroke is leaving it—like threading a needle.
I call this approach the aesthetics of movement. To me, everything in the world is a balance of forces, where motion reveals meaning and harmony.
Chen Duxi, Subjective Realm: Between Form and Flow, Exhibition View©The FQM, 2025
Zhang: When you speak of movement, do you mean fluidity?
Chen: Fluidity is one form of movement. I’m fond of outdoor activities like hiking or riding motorcycles. During these activities, both the body and mind are in motion. If you watch a motorcycle race, for example, you see the crane camera or drone following the bikes, capturing them from 360 degrees. Similarly, the relationship between the brush and paper while painting, the connection between a viewer and a landscape painting, or observing flowing water from different angles, at different times, and in varying states—all reflect relative movement. This reminds me of Duchamp’s Rotary Demisphere (1925). Even when an object appears still on the surface, movement continues on a microscopic level, such as the interactions between cells within our bodies. Such motion is subtle yet constant. When I’m riding a motorcycle, for instance, I’m simultaneously avoiding incoming vehicles and keeping track of those alongside me. In these moments, both I and my subjects of observation are in motion, and this movement is not driven by logic but by instinctive bodily reactions. To me, this too embodies a kind of aesthetics.
Marcel Duchamp. Rotary Demisphere (Precision Optics). Paris, 1925
Zhang: In another interview video, I noticed your bookshelf was filled with a wide variety of books—on topics like the history of Chinese painting, Buddhist art, Japanese ukiyo-e, medieval myths and legends, as well as works on Rodin and Mark Rothko. Among the many artistic styles and periods you've explored, which has left the deepest impression on you?
Chen: Recently, I came across a book about Etruscan tomb murals. I remember one mural in particular—it depicted a bird, rendered with just a few simple lines. The strokes were relaxed yet carried a profound richness, and the stone surface, likely dusted with earth and clay, added layers of depth to its colors. Another example is the brick illustrations of the "Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove" from 200 to 500 C.E. They, too, are composed of just a few lines, yet their simplicity achieves remarkable greatness.
Image from the video 100 Young Artists' Homes | Chen Duxi: Exploring the Subtle World of Nothingness, Discovering the Vastness of Life in the Microscopic Realm. © 100 Young Artists' Homes
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Book Cover of Etruskische Wandmalerei and Bird Mural © Courtesy of the Artist
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Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove and Rong Qiqi (Detail), Stone Brick Rubbing from a Southern Dynasty Tomb
Zhang: Why do these lines resonate with you so deeply?
Chen: They are the most concise yet deeply heartfelt expressions, possessing a penetrating power that feels rare and serendipitous. When you find yourself in the right state, with something genuine to convey, the simplest language can pierce through all that is perceived as a barrier.
Zhang: You mentioned that during your 2022 visit to Dunhuang, you also experienced a sense of transcendence in its murals. What evoked that feeling for you?
Chen: The Dunhuang murals vividly capture a pursuit of the spiritual world beyond the physical reality. The religious elements in them create an imagined time and space outside the earthly realm, showing me the possibility of transcendence.
This ties to my understanding of ancient paintings, which I conclude as the quality of flatness. The tension in these simple lines arises from their minimalism—paradoxically, the more simplified they are, the more information they convey, the more they approach the essence of movement. For example, Renaissance art sought to achieve realism. Meticulous studies of light, color, and perspective served to faithfully reproduce reality. In contrast, earlier paintings in antiquity were saturated with creativity. Their simple lines were entirely faithful to the creator’s experience, constructing a narrative or a reality within the physical plane yet existing beyond reality. As a result, they transfer the viewer into a different atmosphere. I believe this kind of art, with its capacity to inspire and immerse, holds true value and is worthy of appreciation.
Contemplate-Laughing All The Way, Mineral color pigment on silk, 36 x 48 cm，2024 ©The FQM
Zhang: Your earlier ErGong series emphasized "the biological aspect" in observing the essence of the world and its objects, as you mentioned in Between Earth and Heaven. How does this biological outlook relate to the attention to movement and flatness you just mentioned?
Chen: ErGong corresponds to a search for the biological essence of things, while movement is the central theme of my ChiYi series. As for flatness, I’m still exploring it—perhaps my recent work Towards Remote Antiquity might offer clues for the future. To me, these three elements together form a truly complete painting, or to borrow a Buddhist term, a "perfect (圆满)" painting.
Chen Duxi, The Order of Body (Ergong), Exhibition View, 2023 ©The FQM
Zhang: It seems you’re quite interested in themes of religion and divinity.
Chen: I’m not interested in religion itself but in how it allows people to move beyond their limitations. Faith inspires transcendence. Similarly, while the Dark Learning (玄学) of the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties in China wasn’t a religion, it paved the way for a liberation of the human spirit from its constraints. It makes me feel that beyond the boundaries of reality, there is something greater and more meaningful to pursue.
About the Interviewer
Sarah Zhang's research centers on modern and contemporary East Asian art history. Her scholarly interests encompass the epistemological exchanges between East Asia and the West as reflected in material culture during the 19th and 20th centuries, as well as the sharing and reconstruction of knowledge systems.
