Yang's expansive series of ink works on paper aims to point to the relationship between the material and the immaterial. Deceptively simple, it is impossible to take these works in at once, which is precisely the artist’s intention. Rather, the viewer is forced to move around and in-between the stretched frames with their dense yet reflective ink surfaces. The structure of the paper, infused with medicinal herbs, further impacts upon the effect of the ink, imbuing the surfaces with unexpected patterns that resemble rivers running through mystical terrain. These surfaces eventually give way to shimmering, undulating silvery marks, with an effect similar to that of the special Buddhist genre of black thanka paintings—a connection Yang makes himself with folds resembling the robes of Buddhist monks. 100 layers of ink Ink on paper and gauze. 300x400cm. 1989-90. Artist statement - "When I was three years old, my grandfather began to teach me to calligraphy. Very often he was writing on a leaf fan, thereafter he would blacken the fan with the help of a kerosene lamp, then wipe away the traces of ink, so that the originally black characters turned white. I grew up with my grandfather. When I am writing calligraphy today, I too, rarely do it according to the rules. Even though I studied calligraphy for more than thirty years, I do not apply all these strict rules in my work. There is not one brushstroke that is not a mistake, all are wrong, not one is good, which makes them all harmozing in the end. I used this method to write several thousand names; names of people I have met during my life-time, and who left a deep impression in my memory. To write a name, I just need a few seconds; but in this short moment, the most characteristic features of this person - his appearance, his voice and conduct - appear in front of my eyes and under my brush." I still remember Ink on paper. 6 panels (300x173cm each). 1998-2006. YANG JIECHANG łÆÊ
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