Hung Hoi: Force of Nature

Interview by Alex Whittaker

Hung Hoi speaks about his relationship to the great Chinese tradition of Shanshui painting and his artistic roots in China. Relocating from Xiamen to Hong Kong in 1978, he discusses the impact of that move and how it influenced his approach to making art.

Alexander Whittaker (AW): Dear Mr Hung Hoi, thank you very much for joining me here and in agreeing to answer some questions in relationship to your practice today. As discussed, we are excited to be providing a new online platform for Chinese ink painting, and your ideas and answers will no doubt help to inform our readers. Firstly, you were born on Gulangyu, Xiamen. How much has your experience of that same landscape growing up influenced your painting today? Can you tell us a little bit more about that?

Hung Hoi (HH): I was born on the beautiful island of Gulangyu off Xiamen. It is an island teeming with more than a thousand species of plants, many of which were brought in by western missionaries and overseas Chinese from the Nanyang region. Gulangyu has always been known as the ‘Garden on the Sea’, or the ‘Piano Island’, dotted with many hundred-year-old banyan trees, and unique architecture of international styles. In 2017 UNESCO listed the island as a World Cultural Heritage Site.

My father taught at the Fujian Academy of Arts and Crafts on the island, and he often took me as a young boy to visit and observe artists at work at the Academy. When I was still at junior middle school, I studied shanshui painting (Chinese landscape painting) with Yang Sheng and Zhang Xiao-han, both teachers at the Academy. I liked to go and sketch on the Sunlight Rocks, where one could see the more than 40-metre-high giant rock ‘Gulang Skyseer’ with a century-old banyan hanging from its steep cliff face, the old Ming dynasty site of Zheng Yan-ping’s naval training ground, and the Lotus Buddhist Nunnery. I used to sketch the landscape straight in ink on rice paper. This long-term practice improved my ability in form and composition, which played a crucial role in shaping my later works in shanshui. 

tradition of Chinese ink painting, can you tell us why you think it has been considered to be so important for such a long time?

HH: Shanshui (literally ‘mountain and water’) has always been the mainstream in the tradition of Chinese painting, and there have been many outstanding shanshui painters through the ages. The art of shanshui is framed by the artistic imagination of an ethereal, far-reaching, yet simple and detached world, underpinned by the concept of three spatial relationships: pingyuan (horizontal distance), gaoyuan (vertical distance) and shenyuan (deep distance). Shanshui painters are not satisfied with the mere objective depiction of Nature; they attempt to fuse the natural environment with the artist’s thoughts and emotions, ‘borrowing the scenery’ to express lyrical feelings, and thus, creating the unique realm of shanshui. 

What is most important in the art of shanshui is the spiritual quest of the artist to delineate the transcendent state of his inner world.

AW: Very often in your works there seems to be a sense of movement or rhythm – in the flowing water of streams or rivers for example. Can you talk more about the idea of capturing the rhythm or ‘spirit’ of nature in a painting? How can one find this rhythm in the landscape by looking alone?

“In the art of shanshui, there is no spirit without clouds, no mystery without stones, no beauty without trees, and no life without water.”

HH: In 1995, I climbed up Mount Hua to draw the landscape. I lodged on the mountain for eight days, completely immersed in all weathers in the unpredictable natural beauty of the mountain, which was vast and sparsely populated; the views were constantly changing and awe-inspiring. Appearing before my eyes were precipitous cliffs, imposing peaks and majestic rolling ranges. Their breathtaking grandeur, occasionally punctuated by the drama of rising wind and billowing clouds, was the best place to be for a landscape sketch. Over the eight days, I searched up and down, travelled through all the scenic spots, and each time I arrived, I laid out the prepared ink and paper, trying to channel every thought and emotion into the inkbrush, sometimes describing realistically, and sometimes, when prompted by the scene, creating freely. I particularly liked to capture the mountain shrouded in the atmospheric clouds and mists, and its various waterfalls. Mount Hua has significantly changed my painting style. Since then, the mountain and I have formed an unshakeable bond. The extended travel sketch has indeed created a private ravine in my heart, an inner landscape where there is stillness in motion, motion in stillness, and where the intangible embodies the tangible, and vice versa, in endless permutations. In the art of shanshui, there is no spirit without clouds, no mystery without stones, no beauty without trees, and no life without water.

AW: In your 1987 work Rhythm of Waves, you capture this flow or ‘energy of life’ very clearly. But to my mind this work also suggests a strong relationship between the materials – ink and colours on paper – and the resulting sense of movement in the image. Other artists have also talked about the process of painting being a kind of negotiation between the artist, the artisan or paper and ink makers and the materials themselves. Can you tell us more about your choice of materials, your relationship with them and how this leads you to your images?

HH: The year 1987 was part of a period when I explored the modern form of Chinese ink painting. I experimented with various materials. In addition to using watercolours and poster colours, I painted on surfaces other than xuan paper (rice paper) such as watercolour paper, wooden board and ceramic tile, attempting to discover new surfaces and to observe the interaction between different materials.

I often follow my own creative needs to decide which rice paper to use. When sketching, I prepare different types of rice paper, bark paper and semi-absorbent king wo paper. The final option depends on the view I want to paint; for instance, bark paper is the choice for misty mountain landscapes for its more efficient absorption of ink. Sometimes I use different types of paper to draw the same scene.

I always grind my own ink, and much prefer oil-soot ink, such as that from the Selection of the Master of the Iron Studio by the Yao-chien branch of the Shanghai family ink-maker Cao Su-gong. I am also partial to koukaboku, the rapeseed oil-soot made by Kobaien in Japan. Once, Mr Hugh Moss, the Master of the Water, Pine and Stone Retreat, gifted me an aged inkstick that I have treasured and used sparingly.

Rhythm of Waves was inspired by the landscape of Big Wave Bay in Hong Kong. I started by sketching the great waves with an alum mixture on xuan paper, and when it was dry, I painted the waves in huaqing (Chinese indigo blue), in expressionist strokes to describe the power of crushing waves against the shore, and then brushed the rocky reefs in black ink. The image had to be done in one continuous flow.

AW: When looking at your ‘meticulous landscape’ works in particular, it is immediately apparent that there is a very interesting sense of space in these works. Often much of the landscape appears in the foreground, with other elements painted more softly, receding an indeterminate distance into the background. But there are also large swathes, areas of completely white space left to suggest mist, clouds or simply white ‘nothingness’. A lot has been written about this concept of negative space in art, known in Chinese as liubai (留白), literally meaning ‘leave blank’. Can you tell us what is important about this negative space in your works and why is it important to include ‘nothing’?

“It is often more preferable, in painting, to emphasize the spirit of the intangible over the solid physical reality.”

HH: The ‘meticulous shanshui’ is the main feature of my artistic style. Using fine lines and contrasting tones, I try to merge the accumulated experience of travelling through mountains and rivers with the creative impulse of an inner landscape, stripping colourful Nature to the basic monotone of an internal world. Liubai is an important spatial arrangement in my shanshui painting. It is often more preferable, in painting, to emphasize the spirit of the intangible over the solid physical reality. When the intangible is finely balanced with the tangible, there is flow of life. Liubai allows the viewers space for imagination and enhances the sense of mystery of the painted surface.

AW: I read that you moved from Xiamen to Hong Kong in 1978 to study with Yang Shan-shen. How did this relocation affect your practice? Did you pick up more influences as a result of Hong Kong becoming an increasingly international hub for the region?

HH: I moved to Hong Kong from Xiamen in 1978. The geographical position and politico-cultural background of Hong Kong were different from those in Mainland China. I visited exhibitions of Impressionist paintings and other contemporary arts at the Hong Kong Museum of Art, and for the first time in my life I was exposed to a large number of original artworks. The impact was huge, greatly widening my horizon. Previously, I didn’t have much chance to encounter original works, learning mostly from prints and publications. After the move, I saw plenty of original contemporary artworks, and creatively I became freer and more open. In 1980 I studied painting with Mr Yang Shan-shen from whom I learned a tremendous amount. In 1981 one of my works was included in the Contemporary Hong Kong Art Biennial Exhibition. And in 1983 the curator of the Hong Kong Museum of Art, Mr Tam Chi-shing introduced me to the One Art Group, which I joined. During this period, I was mainly working in the modern form of Chinese ink painting, with comparatively vibrant and intense colours. Having lived in an international city like Hong Kong for over forty years, my works have undoubtedly been influenced and inspired by different types of modern art.

AW: Hong Kong saw great innovation in the field of ink painting around this time, with many artists experimenting in abstraction or the process of making art itself. Lui Shuo-kwan for example, developed ink painting into a new form of gestural, abstract language. Can you tell us more about the desire to innovate a very traditional practice, where did this desire for change come from?

HH: In 1983 I joined the One Art group, set up by the students of Lui Shuo-kwan. Members included Cheng Wei-kwok, Irene Chou, Koo Mei and others, all of whom were influenced by Lui’s spirit of avant-garde experimentation in their intense search for an individual style. They established the group as an important part of the New Ink Art Movement in Hong Kong at the time. Mr Lui Shuo-kwan came from a solid background in traditional Chinese painting, and since the 1960s he had been combining western abstract expressionism with Chinese traditions, and by further incorporating modern western art concepts, he pushed Hong Kong’s new ink art to the peak.

AW: Hong Kong and indeed China now both participate in an increasingly globalised art world – Hong Kong only recently secured its title as cultural capital of the region in terms of visual art, with international visitors arriving in huge numbers for Art Basel as well as Sotheby’s and Christie’s art auctions. How do you think this will change the landscape for young generations practicing in the city, as they attempt to find their voice as artists?

HH: Hong Kong has always been an international city. The annual Art Basel and auctions at Sotheby’s and Christie’s attract many young local artists and art lovers. The new generation of Hong Kong artists enjoys an expanding international horizon. 

These young creators have plenty of access to original artworks coming from every corner of the world, be they traditional or contemporary, and will naturally be inspired in different ways to form a new artistic language. 

AW: I read your thoughts that art should embody ‘novelty, national characteristics as well as the spirit of the times’. Are you able to talk more about the relationship between art and national identity, and how would you describe the changing spirit of the times in Hong Kong since your arrival in 1978?

HH: In my opinion, a creative and relevant artist ought to consider certain key elements: that his paintings are infused with personal thinking, emotions and individualities; and that apart from developing his particular set of painting skills to create a unique vision, he imbues his artworks with national characteristics and the spirit of his time.  

Chinese traditional culture is rich and the artistic achievement high. I personally think that we ought to both inherit and innovate the traditions.

Ever since I moved to Hong Kong in 1978, the artistic transformation, from modern Chinese ink painting, abstract ink painting, blue-and-green shanshui, to meticulous shanshui, has witnessed the different ways to respond to different periods with different creative works. Only by innovating continuously can an artist become a true artist.

AW: We are currently seeing increasing amounts of contemporary art from the South East Asia region seemingly influenced by styles that originate from elsewhere – Zeng Fanzhi, for example, being one painter heavily influenced by the western tradition. Yet ink painting still persists and many younger artists are still finding room for development and innovation within the field. What is it about Chinese ink painting that keeps it vibrant and relevant in an increasingly global art world?

HH: Young artists ought to have an international vision as well as originality. Chinese ink painting, as an art form, has its self-contained system and model. The use of the Chinese inkbrush and rice paper is a completely different language from that of western painting. The art of Chinese painting emphasizes the spirit, artistic vision, tone, learning, cultivation and open-mindedness. It is highly representative of the system of Eastern Art. 

AW: If you could offer one piece of advice to younger artists wishing to continue in the field of Chinese ink painting, what would that advice be?

HH: Field of vision is very important. One needs to look at both Chinese and western art, including ancient Chinese traditional arts and the latest western contemporary art. An artist must have a wide range of knowledge and the ability to self-teach, and must never limit his horizon. 

A new era requires a new concept, a new way of thinking and a new creative process.

AW: Finally, Mr Hung Hoi please tell us about your favourite artwork or artist of all time, the one that keeps you returning to it time and time again. What is it that you consider to be so successful about this piece of work or artist?

HH: I like the shanshui of Song dynasty most. In 1990 I went to Taipei and saw a comprehensive exhibition of Song and Yuan paintings at the National Palace Museum. On return to Hong Kong, I bought the print versions of Fan Kuan’s Travelling among Mountains and Streams and Guo Xi’s Early Spring, both exquisitely reproduced by Nigensha in Japan at original size. They could easily pass off as genuine and the details looked clearer than when viewed at the Museum. I spent more than a month copying them, first Guo Xi and then Fan Kuan. 

Early Spring is a hanging scroll painted by Guo Xi Completed in 1072, it is one of the most famous works of Chinese art from the Song Dynasty.

To start with, there is the full-view composition of Song painting, with spaces both for the sky above and the ground below. The liubai surfaces seem to change the way clouds and mists do, while the ‘curling cloud’ or ‘ghost’s face’ textural brushstrokes realistically describe the sedimentary rock formations. This image of an early spring, warming up, yet still cold, unfolding the plain beauty of mountain views, with a majestic central peak, misty distant range in the far background, is a beautified and idealised version of Nature. Guo Xi’s Early Spring is indeed the most important inspiration for my own shanshui works.

Fan Kuan’s Travelling among Mountains and Streams, on the other hand, is a unified image of classical elegance, imposing monumentality and dense solidity. There are also Li Tang’s Wind in Pines among a Myriad Valleys, Xia Gui’s Pure and Remote View of Streams and Mountains, and in the Yuan dynasty, Huang Gong-wang’s Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains, Wang Meng’s Dwelling in the Qingbian Mountains, and in the Qing dynasty, Shitao and Bada Shanren. Among contemporaries, Huang Bin-hong, Fu Baoshi and Li Keran are great artists that I study and learn from. Their works are, in one way or another, both innovative and inspiring.

Hung Hoi lives and works in Hong Kong. His complex paintings reflect his bold experimentation with the Chinese tradition of ink on paper. Artworks reside in collections of The National Art Museum of China, British Museum, Hong Kong Museum of Art and many more. www.hunghoi.com