Artist Statement | Tu Hongtao on the Exhibition Title

2020 is a year worth remembering.

Yibosanzhe—”a twist and three turns”—is a commonly used Chinese idiom, one that none of my exhibitions have ever been titled, as there have been few years as tumultuous as this one. The phrase originates from Jin Dynasty literatus Wang Xizhi’s postscript to his teacher Lady Wei’s Battle Formation of the Brush: each “twisting stroke” is followed up with “three turning strokes.” Originally referring to the elegant flourishes of Chinese calligraphy, the phrase now describes unpredictable, abruptly changing states of affairs—as well as implying that good things never come easy.

Taken literally, “a twist and three turns” brings to mind certain scenes from nature: the wind blowing through water, raising ripples. The characters convey a sense of movement—“ripples” suggest the movement of time, and the vicissitudes of nature. This sense of temporal ebb and flow— just like a twisting, winding road—is what I want to capture in my paintings.

The entirety of Wang’s text discusses calligraphic style. The phrase, “a twist and three turns,” rises in opposition to what is “upright, foursquare, straight, and level—in which case, the product is not calligraphy, but mere brushstrokes.” I understand these words as espousing a certain aesthetic sensibility, namely, that painting ought not to be too neat and orderly, nor artistic production too decorative; both, rather, should involve a kind of friction, as with a blade against a grindstone. I recently looked back over my paintings from fifteen years ago. Their surfaces are sleek, almost transparent. Seen now, they evince a young man’s state of mind, without troubles and free of history. My work today, however, employs a much more difficult, opaque painterly language. I have realized that, more and more, I strive for unstinting persistence and economy of technique.

In modern Chinese, “a twist and three turns,” can be used to describe unpredictable, abruptly changing states of affairs, or interference by certain, unexpected factors. This accords with our current global predicament. I understand this saying as implying a kind of spatial progression and layering, an effect I want to achieve in my work. These chaotic, disordered spatial arrangements produce a vague and indeterminate effect. When you live, as I do, in a political climate where “morning edicts are repealed at dusk,” you learn to acclimate to change—it’s difficult to place your faith in anything. Consequently, respecting oneself and one’s hard-won principles becomes incredibly important.

I hope that this exhibition is as memorable as the difficult times we live in.