When I was young, crouching in bed on winter mornings, I liked watching the flowers of ice on the windows. There, I could see many beautiful pictures---woods, bushes and the little birds flying around the fairy, and even the small village at the foot of the hill, which I suppose should be my works now. Later I began to try drawing them with crayons, but the adults seldom recognized what was in my pictures.
Years later, I became a student in an Academy of Fine Arts. Because in the eyes of others I was an artist with special skills, I was proud that I could express exactly whatever I saw after realism training. But shortly after I graduated I doubted about myself, because I found I didn’t surpass myself, I had no way to express what I saw before. There seemed to be an invisible chain on me, restricting my imagination. I did express exactly what was around me, but I couldn’t express myself. Many times, I ask myself: have I really become a painter? The answer is that there is still a long way to go.
The world we see is not necessarily a real one, nor the world in the heart of a painter. In some sense, I find myself coming back where I started. I begin to consider what is my real subject, what is my way …… I feel confused and painful. At that moment, the flowers of ice on the windows came back to me, shining on the cold winter mornings and so did the little birds flying around the beautiful fairy and the lawn in my childhood, and the flowers, cattle , the blinking stars in the sky at night, and the folk songs echoing among the hills… what a beautiful and desiring world! It must be the so-called paradise. Suddenly I found the ideal world lying in my memory for long while I paid no attention to it……
The inspiration of artists comes from nature, life and the conversation between heart and feelings, and my conversation starts from my memory of the flowers of ice. This is a conversation transcending time and space, existing in my thought and dreams, no patterns, no chains.
We are living in a world of diversification and many artists usually focus their observation and expression on their perception, thinking and analyzing of the reality. While I concern reality, I prefer to feel a life ——common, peaceful and full of hopes and fantasies. What it includes is so rich that every bite of it can give me life and inspiration at any time. An artist once said, “ The life of an artist is an artwork being perfected constantly in life. Tasting this process brings me joy and comfort'. For me, it is happiness.