Youth Art Hub | Ai Xi: Using "Colorless Pigments" to Provoke "Color-Craving" Eyes

AXASH

Mountain N’ Sea · Wild Classic: Mirage

Young Artist——

Axash

     Graduated from the Central Academy of Fine Arts (CAFA), and a postgraduate of the Fine Art department at the University of the Arts London (UAL).
Representative works include the "Colourfly" series, the "SOL" series, the "Oddching ~ Ektene" series, and the "Operapunk" series.

     Co-founder and 2D Design Director of Xairos Studio, Art Advisor for Yuehong Asset Management Co., Ltd. and Jiyan Digital Technology Co., Ltd., and Deputy Director of the Tianxia Peace Art Museum under the Tianxia Holding Group. Council Member of the New York Contemporary Art Center and the Wuhan Designers Salon, collaborating artist with Tate Modern, illustrator for NetEase LOFTER, member of the Hubei Artists Association, researcher at the Hubei Calligraphy and Painting Research Institute, and member of the Wuhan Film and Television Arts Workers Association. Nominated for the Youth Design 100 at Beijing Design Week, and head of Your Prophecy!—a sub-project of Like the Sun, which was selected for the Curatorial 100 project by the China Artists Association. Currently living and working in Wuhan, Osaka, and London, engaging in comparative mythology and anthropological research.

May painting and life remain vibrant by never rushing to be sealed away. Like the wind.

May reality and the soul transcend the farthest horizon the eye can see. Like the sea.

Art Chatroom

Interview Q&A

Inevitability and Chance: On My Artistic Path

Q: Could you share how you embarked on the path of artistic creation? And how did you encounter "frame painting," a painting genre that is on the verge of being lost?

Embarking on this path of art was, for me, both an inevitability and a stroke of chance. The inevitable part is that, with my naturally solitary and eccentric disposition, I was destined to make art my lifelong friend; the chance occurrence is that, having been introverted and withdrawn since childhood, I would unexpectedly turn art into my lifelong career.

During my undergraduate studies, I was in a painting department with a focus on oil painting, but I didn't have much of a concept of contemporary art back then. Instead, I spent most of my time holed up in the printmaking studio creating meticulously detailed pieces, and my graduation project was also heavily line-based. Entering my postgraduate years, like most people, I started thinking about employment. My top career choice was art valuation at an auction house, with animation and design as backup options—eventually, I simply learned all of them. Working as a designer brought in a quite decent income; I handled almost every type of commercial design, though my strongest suit remained graphic design, likely due to its inherent connection to painting. Later on, through my design work, I met friends in the contemporary art scene. I casually showed them my works from my fine art days, and many of them strongly urged me not to give it up.

The contemporary art scene, as I see it, is full of human warmth—interwoven with joys and sorrows, rich and authentic. I hope that in ten or twenty years, I too can cultivate the same profound friendships and bonds as my predecessors—those who are willing to forsake commercial opportunities and conventional paths for the sake of art are usually quite interesting, and rarely hypocritical.

My discovery of "frame painting" was purely coincidental. It is a field so rarely studied that even AI fails to pull up any information on it. At the time, I was studying "soft sculpture," and I wondered: if there can be "soft sculptures," why couldn't there be "soft murals"? This question lingered in my mind for a long time. Later, while researching Chinese mythology for a book I was writing on comparative world mythology, I read a book by Professor Wu Hung and was instantly captivated by the concept of "frame painting." Coupled with the fact that I had previously created fabric-based works similar to "silk paintings," I became particularly interested in the connections between these different painting genres.

Beyond Life and Death, Among Mentors and Friends

Q: During your personal growth or academic journey, what key milestones or individuals have had a decisive impact on you?

A near-death experience counts as one key milestone in my life; returning to art from design counts as another, and shifting from general art back to easel painting is yet another. Before 2020, I suffered from a bizarre illness—or perhaps I had simply ignored the pain for years, remaining completely oblivious to my condition. It was only after a five-hour emergency resuscitation, as I was wheeled out of the operating room, that I truly understood what it meant to be "alive" for the very first time.

Because contemplating the meaning of being "alive" naturally led to contemplating the meaning of money: just how much money does one need to make in a lifetime for it to be enough? I used to care quite a bit about money, and it's not like I completely don't care anymore (laughs), but simply doing what follows my heart and earning enough to survive is perfectly fine with me. So, transitioning from design back to art might seem foolish to onlookers, but it makes me genuinely happy.

Before returning to the easel, I also explored sculpture and installation art, which made me realize that "less is more"—this is not about formal minimalism, but rather about "truly transforming my own life in various ways." It might sound a bit metaphysical, but I believe the great artists in history never really died; their souls reside within their core works.

As for the individuals who influenced me, I owe my understanding of "lines" to my mentor, Li Naiwei. I studied Gongbi (traditional Chinese meticulous brushwork) under him, and he supported me in forging a different path. He would always tell me: in painting, at the very beginning, the eyes follow the hands; but later on, it becomes the hands following the heart.

Zhang Jie, or "Jie Ge," is also incredibly important. We frequently exchange thoughts on our artworks and life, and he told me that the most crucial elements in creating art are a youthful spirit and the courage to yield to no one.

Lu Hong was the mentor who initiated me into the history of Chinese contemporary art. Through him, I can always catch glimpses of the authentic, youthful anecdotes of the art scene—whether it is his friendship with Fang Lijun or his playful banter with Sun Zhenhua, it all feels incredibly vivid and alive.

During my creation of the "Operapunk" and "Colourfly" series, Ji Shaofeng reminded me that art shouldn't be "too pretty," and he introduced me to the concept of the Japanese Mono-ha movement. It was precisely because of him that I found the motivation to dive into the original texts on contemporary art and philosophy.

My initiation into sculpture came from Fu Zhongwang. Although our interactions were mostly casual chats, he was the one who taught me the underlying logic of sculpture, from its structural foundation to its final form, and I often sought his advice on material-related issues.

Wang Xinyao supported me in organizing the "Shuyu" exhibition. That experience allowed me to see the intended effects of my works in a much more multi-dimensional way, and I also completed my very first line-drawing animation and original writing project. It was precisely because of the exhibition at Tanghu that I finally forced myself to tackle those creative endeavors I had always brushed off as things I would "get to someday in my lifetime."

Wei Guangqing and Director Chen Yongjin always criticize me for lacking ambition. They roast me for only bringing mediocre works to group exhibitions, saying it's only during my solo shows that my true creative caliber is finally understood, and they tell me that in art, I shouldn't be afraid of offending people... Alright then, I guess I'll have to be a bit tougher from now on.

And of course, there is the recommender for this exhibition, Sister Li Lei. We share many commonalities, yet we manifest them so differently. Beneath her beautiful works and exterior lies much indescribable pain, yet she continues to bravely bloom outward. In a way, we are stars watching over one another.

If I were to mention everyone who has influenced me one by one, there would simply be too many. It was only last year that I set foot on the island of the Hubei Institute of Fine Arts for the first time, yet I am constantly mistaken for a member of the HIFA family. I can only say that I am incredibly lucky to have met so many wonderful people in my own hometown.

On the Illusion and Reality of the "Mirage"

Q: The title of this exhibition is deeply meaningful. You reinterpret "Hai Shi" (Mirage) as a "displaced reality," which not only connects to the historical connotations of the "Market of Giants" in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shan Hai Jing), but also carries the weight of illusions and ideals within a modern context. How is this dual interpretation presented in your works?

The English translation of "Hai Shi" is quite literally "mirage." The scenes within a mirage are not non-existent; rather, they exist in a location offset from their actual physical spot. This dual interpretation is first reflected in my choice of subject matter: I deliberately selected corresponding symbols from real civilizations paired with fictitious names. This motivation can merely be chalked up to a personal quirk of mine, as I believe that all words, even when pieced together at random, will eventually form meaning—much like the layout of a keyboard—as long as you use enough time and stories to weave them together.

Furthermore, in terms of materiality, I also aimed for a flickering, ethereal effect that flutters with the breeze in the open exhibition hall. To achieve this, I used multiple layers of gauze and transparent, actually colorless pigments to layer together a tangible space. However, it is fundamentally difficult for photography to truly capture the essence of the original work.

When I was painting the "Colourfly" series, I dissected butterfly wings... Alright, I know this method is pretty old-school, but because of it, I discovered that the colors in butterfly wings aren't actually true blue; rather, they are iridescent hues generated by their optical structure. That is what later sparked the idea of using colorless materials, or materials in their natural hues, as pigments. Of course, it was also a way to let my innate Eastern soul awaken a bit, and to provoke the "color-craving" eyes of those Pop Art devotees, hehe!

Lines: Concepts, Constraints, and Karmic Bonds

Q: "Lines" are a very core material in your works, whether it is the lines in your paintings or the weaving in your installations. In your view, what exactly do "lines" signify?

Beneath the pen, a "line" is a conceptual thread, a projection of free will. In the hand, a "line" is a tangible string—a constraint that can cut the skin, inherently prone to tangling. Within culture, "lines" signify karmic connections and bloodlines, clues and causality. Although we now reside in a wireless era, enveloped by Wi-Fi and radio waves, we have not truly transcended the physical bodies bound by these cultural threads. "Lines" also interlace to form fabrics, much like how muscles weave our bodies together, and how time and culture weave our very selves.

My Mask: Associations from Bird Heads to Spiders

Q: You once mentioned in your personal statement that "masks both conceal and reveal." Among all your "masks," is there a particular piece that comes closest to the "self" you feel deep within?

Probably the bird-head mask. After all, I want to be a penguin in my next life (just kidding).

If I really had to pinpoint one, it might be those masked figures on the canvas with legs that somewhat resemble spiders. That is because everywhere I go, there always seem to be spiders, and spiders, in turn, symbolize the sun... Sorry, my associative imagination tends to run a bit wild.

How to Step Into "Mountains and Seas: Wild Classics - Mirage"

Q: For audiences who are learning about "frame painting" and experiencing art related to the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shan Hai Jing) for the very first time, do you have any simple, easy-to-understand advice for viewing the exhibition? If you had to use a single sentence to summarize the core feeling you hope to convey to the audience through "Mountains and Seas: Wild Classics - Mirage," what would it be?

You will see different landscapes from the rear window compared to the front door, and distinct colors will reveal themselves depending on whether you are far away or up close. Only by standing at a distance can you see the whole picture clearly, and only by stepping close can you see its true colors—sometimes, life is simply this continuous circling between the distant and the near, a search for that perfect distance where the act of "seeing" does not bring you harm.

The tales of mountains and seas need not be limited only to what is recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shan Hai Jing), and the same applies to Perfect Life. May every viewer define their own mountains and seas, and discover their own perfect life. Being present is far more important than reaching the end.