'Eye to Eye: Yan Pei-Ming's gaze on the world' Encounter with the French-Chinese painter in Paris
Self-portraits, apes and lions stand side-by-side, as the artist probes the force of life with oil paint.
In early autumn Paris, light and shadow drift across the massive walls of a former factory space in Pantin, which acts as the venue of Galerie Thaddaeus Ropac.
Two days before the Sept 13 opening of Yan Pei-Ming’s new exhibition Eye to Eye, I arranged to meet with the artist for an interview. Yan was already waiting for me in the courtyard of the gallery. French friends are used to calling him "Ming", but when he introduces himself, he says: "Yan Pei-Ming. That’s how I have called myself from the very beginning."
The exhibition hall is lofty and spare, with exposed beams and a concrete floor that seem like a stage prepared for his canvases. As the door opens, visitors immediately lock eyes with two monumental lions painted on either side, their gaze searing. "Because in China, lions are often placed at the entrance," Yan Pei-Ming explained. "And you see the same in France and Italy."
It is the first time Yan Pei-Ming has exhibited in Pantin, though he has held two solo shows in the gallery’s Marais space in Paris.
This exhibition includes 26 oil paintings, the largest a six-meter-high triptych of a self-portrait nature, the smallest a 33-by-24.5-centimeter self-portrait. Frames vary from rectangular to oval. The palette features his familiar black, white and gray, as well as pink and other colors. The subjects are primates — humans, apes, monkeys — and lions.
"The concept for this show is self-portrait together with hominids, and then some lions," the artist summarized. "The evolution of humankind, my own evolution, the evolution of the world — this is a key question of reflection."
Yan’s paintings are often based on photographs or images. The animals in his works come from life studies, many are from pictures, and some from photos taken by his daughter and her friends when traveling.
As for whether he considers the two-dimensional qualities of photographs or their play of light, he explained: "Basically, an artist can change these — its light, its color, its composition. An image is only a point of reference. I rely on instinct as an artist to work with it."
[...]
Yan wore a pink cotton shirt, a black Chinese-style jacket with knotted buttons, and over it a tea-green outdoor jacket. A cigar was always in his hand — the same one, relit from time to time, since lunch. During the interview, Yan sat on a wooden bench in a corner of the courtyard, under the trembling leaves of early-autumn poplars.
Yan Pei-Ming never makes preparatory sketches. "I just paint freely. From the first stroke to the final result, most people would never imagine it. It’s a kind of risk. From a blank canvas to the finished work, at the beginning it’s hard to conceive, but little-by-little, it takes shape."
Sometimes the surprises are pleasant; sometimes they unsettle. "If it works out, it’s great. If not, I set it aside, and later, when I have time or new ideas, I can change it."
His strong ability to shape forms, he said, comes from long practice: "From childhood, I drew sketches, portraits, still lifes, landscapes. Always." Talent alone, he stressed, is not enough — there must also be diligence and confidence. "Some people have the ability but never make it their own." He recalled his five years at the École des Beaux-arts (now the École nationale supérieure d'art et design) de Dijon as “the happiest period of my life,” his gift for shaping forms making him a well-known figure at the school.
Color, for him, is exploration. "First addition, then subtraction, then addition again. At first everything is included, then pared down, then if it’s too simplified, I add more — according to need." For years, he insisted on black, white and gray. But recently, he has begun to use color. "I used to say I would never paint in color, only black and white forever. Later I thought: isn’t that a loss? By denying myself, I could move forward. It enriches the work, makes it more independent, allows for evolution. Otherwise, it would be too monotonous."
Sometimes, in creating, he even "throws a punch". "Attacking myself is like attacking the whole world," he said. That is how he interprets several small self-portraits in this exhibition, with the artist depicted slightly tipsy or blurred. They are self-mockery, and at the same time a response to the larger world.
[...]
If he had more than one life? "Still an artist," he replied. And he returned to an old metaphor: in the leather factory where he first worked after arriving in Paris, workers would hand him a piece of hide, and he had to cut out the best surface while making the most of it.
"You always want to show your best side. And you must use yourself well, make good use of yourself."
That invisible thread stretches from the 19-year-old in the tannery to the present Pantin gallery, binding his life and work together.
