The Voracious Genius of Xu Beihong

While I was visiting the historic-electric city of Suzhou last month, I was lucky enough to drop into the Suzhou Museum (pictured in my previous post) while they happened to be hosting a major temporary exhibit featuring the art of Xu Beihong (pronounced "SHU bay-HONG").

Now the permanent exhibits at the Suzhou Museum were amazing as well. The Suzhou area began developing agricultural settlements during the Neolithic age around 10,000 BCE, and a distinctly Chinese artistic tradition, featuring bronzes, abraded jade works, sophisticated farming tools, and fine pottery, emerged in the fertile Yangtze River Delta around 5,000 BCE. During the Spring and Autumn period (772-481 BCE) Suzhou was the capital city of the Wu state, and the region subsequently became a haven for cultural literati during the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties. According to a popular Chinese saying, "Heaven above, Suzhou and Hangzhou below." As you can imagine in a locale with such history (and such archaeological digs), there are plenty of fascinating artifacts worthy of display, study, and much slack-jawed gazing.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day it was the temporary exhibit featuring the hybrid paintings of Xu Beihong that most vividly captured my imagination. I picked up an oversize book full of reproductions of some of his most important pieces, and have been transfixed ever since.

Xu Beihong was a consummate virtuoso of the paint brush who revitalized Chinese painting by integrating European and Chinese techniques and traditions, without diminishing or compromising any of the elements he blended. [ Pictured below: "Six horses", 1939.]

Born in the village of Jitingquiao in Jiangsu province in 1895, the son of an accomplished painter, calligrapher, and professional seal carver, Xu Beihong began formally studying and practicing Chinese painting at the age of 9. When he was 13, a flood devastated his home village and his family was forced to move; during these hard times, father and son began earning a living selling commercial portraits, landscapes, flower and animal paintings, and calligraphy. Xu struggled with poverty and dashed opportunities throughout his youthful years, but he cranked out prodigious amounts of work.

His break came when he was hired by Mingzhi University in 1917. In the inaugural issue of the university's Painting Magazine, Xu published an article entitled "On the Improvement of Chinese Painting" in which he harshly criticized the stranglehold of conservatism on Chinese art, vigorously asserting that "Among world cultural phenomena the decline of Chinese painting is unprecedented." He outlined a 700-year decline in Chinese painting, and he urged modern artists "to preserve those traditional methods which are good, revive those which are moribund, change those which are bad, strengthen those which are weak, and amalgamate those elements of Western painting which can be adopted."

In 1919, Xu traveled to Paris, where he studied at the Académie Julian, then at the École Normale Supérieure des Beaux Arts. In 1920, he met Dagnan-Bouveret, the leading figure in avant-garde painting, and became a regular at the French artist's weekend studio gatherings. During this time he worked relentlessly on developing impeccable drawing skills and deeply pondering the subtler meanings in his craft. He went to Berlin in 1921 where he spent time studying at the Berlin Art Academy, and in 1925 he traveled to Singapore to spend time at the Amoy University.

Returning to China in 1927, Xu co-founded the Nanguo Academy of Fine Arts and served as head of its painting department. He became president of the Beiping Academy of Fine Arts in 1929; and in 1943 he organized the Chinese Academy of Fine Arts in Chongqing. During the 1930s and 1940s, he produced numerous large-scale oil canvases inspired by the various Western traditions he had studied while in Europe; he also created numerous pieces using traditional Chinese brushwork which nevertheless displayed a uniquely modern flair. [ Pictured: "Temple on Jizu mountain", 1942; in this piece, the technical brushwork and composition follow the manner of European still-life oils, yet the asymmetrical forms are distinctly Chinese, and the presence of the rooster in the lower corner is firmly rooted in the Chinese landscape tradition of representing a point of sentience as a diminutive presence in a larger setting.]

Perhaps particularly from my perspective as an Asian American, I see tremendous hope and passionate inspiration in the work of Xu Beihong. His work visually manifests a meaningful and mutually-beneficial modern encounter between China and the West. As I see it, there are right ways and wrong ways to fuse and synthesize multiple cultural influences and elements; in my eyes, Xu's work shows us the right way.

And so I've put together a mini-gallery of notable Xu Beihong pieces for your perusal and enjoyment.  See what you see and think and feel. Cheers!

[ Pictured below: "Tian Heng and his 500 retainers", 1930. Thanks, Mom, for your help with translations of curatorial notes! ]

Comments

[Emily]

I linked the gallery before I saw this post! Thanks so much for sharing this great artist with us.

[Yolanda Carrington]

Kai, what do you see as what are the "right and wrong ways" to synthesize diverse cultural influences? For me one big wrong way is to appropriate art forms without understanding their meaning, as Westerners do with most arts produced around the world. Another is when artists alter their work to fit into dominant (i.e. US and European) paradigms. Not that I don't love many great European/white artists, but they're usually declared geniuses without hesitation while folks like Xu have to be familiar with "the canon" to even be recognized as valid.

The 700 year decline in Chinese art that Xu identified illustrates something I've long suspected about the arts---great artistic development in a society is usually a sign of great privilege, at least for that society's ruling class. The advanced development of the arts in wealthier countries (France, Japan, Germany, et al.) doesn't seem like an accident to me---you need artists with a lot of time on their hands and/or enough rich-ass patrons to support those artists in their training and work.

[Kai]

Emily, haha you are a sleuth! Diggin out the corners before noticing the headlines, huh? Nice. Glad you like Xu Beihong's stuff, he amazes me.

[Sylvia]

Wow, these pieces are wonderful! Thank you for sharing them. Beihong's sketches are photo quality; such an excellent technique.

[Kai]

Yolanda, true, generally non-Western artists have to approach the Western canon to be taken seriously. In fact, even though Xu Beihong mastered the Western canon, he still is not taught in Western art schools and remains largely unknown here, when he really should be mentioned in the same breath as Cezanne and Picasso or something, ya know?

I'd say the "right way" to do fusion does not diminish or compromise any of the fused elements; so a deep understanding which does not appropriate or do violence to other traditions is crucial. There's also something even subtler, which I can't yet define, having to do with the authenticity of the work, and the comfort with which various elements sit together; I'm still pondering that one...

Regarding the 700-year decline of Chinese painting, the only wrinkle I'd add is that Xu believed painting to be declining throughout the heyday of Ming dynasty wealth and power (15th century and thereabouts). So I agree that great art often requires rich-ass patrons; but apparently that's not enough, artists with money and time can screw it up too!

Peace.

[Kai]

Sylvia, glad you like it! Yes Xu's sketches are phenomenal, he worked on his drawing technique ruthlessly, in fact driving himself to ill-health throughout his life, not taking care of his body as he pushed himself, working for days without properly eating or sleeping, then getting caught in the rain and finally falling asleep in wet clothes, stuff like that. An obsessed artist; and a virtuoso and master.

[brownfemipower]

Wow, really amazing. and you're so right about it not being taught kai--baby bfp's school has an art program where through the course of a year, she has learned about one man of color (diego rivera) and one woman (can you guess? hmmmm, diego rivera--is it possible to teach him without tacking on frida???)

just like I grew up never knowing that there was such a thing as chican@ artists, there's a whole generation of asian, arab, and indigenous youths growing up never knowing even the most basic history of culture/art/music etc of their backgrounds. a way to better prove we have no history worth holding on to or just no history period, i think.

[lovelesscynic]

There's a Xu Beihong museum in Beijing. Well, now I know what I'm going to do tomorrow! Thanks a lot for the gallery and the background, his work really is remarkable.

[lovelesscynic]

As for cultural fusion, it is kind of interesting how Western artists are always "influenced" by other cultures and express this "influence" through their art, where as non Western artists are often described as "imitating" or "copying" Western art, if they do.

And often this "copying" is seen as being less than authentic.

[Kai]

BFP, yeah I guess Baby BFP's art class shouldn't surprise me...well I guess at least they kinda snuck Frida in there (behind Diego of course, of course)...

lovelesscynic, oh cool! Enjoy the museum! Seeing these digitized images on a monitor just isn't the same as standing in front of actual scrolls and canvases. I dig Beijing...I'm gonna try to go next year for the Olympics.

[bint alshamsa]

Kai, this was amazing. I only wish there was more. My favorites were:

Horse-master Jiu Fang Gao
snow scene
study (woman in scarf) 1941 Charcoal on Paper
Reading Oil on canvas 1943
Bamboo 1944 (ink on paper)
self-portrait

I kept thinking that I'd found my favorite one and then I'd get to another and it would be just as amazing. I love the way he used color in Horse-master Jiu Fang Gao. The way it seems to be entirely in black and white with the exception of the people makes them look more than alive. It makes the picture breathe. Does that make sense? Maybe not, but that's what I felt when I looked at it. I loved the way he bathed the self-portrait in yellow light. There is no reason why he shouldn't be numbered among the world's "Great Masters" of painting. I'd have probably never heard of Xu if it hadn't been for your post.

You rock!