Over 500 years ago, Leon Battista Alberti wrote in his work De Pictura(“On Painting”) that a painting should be like an open window: when we look through it we can see a story, as well as the objects upon the canvas. It is said that he also utilized windows in his art in order to help him define painting as an art of “representation.” In later years Dürer’s perspective machine relied on this very principle. Alberti’s “window,” however, was not his own discovery. Beginning with Pliny the Elder, Latin literature featured all manner of descriptions of indoor decorations. The murals and paintings mentioned in these works resembled windows thrown opened to display the surrounding countryside. From the Renaissance to the end of the nineteenth century, windows appearin countless paintings, and in many cases where they do not, the arrangement of light hints at their existence. This signifies that the “window” itself has become a cognitive pattern for painting, “A metaphor that has hovered over the limits of the Western imagination since the Renaissance,” whether as a mechanism for the creation of paintings (or a technique for image production) or as a principle of the representation of scenes. One could say that the “window” has thereby penned its own chapter in art history.

 

During the twentieth century, Duchamp’s Fresh Widow (1920) and La Bagarred’Austerlitz(The Brawl at Austerlitz, 1921) closed this window. “Fresh widow” it should be noted, is pronounced similarly to “French window.” The title of La Bagarred’Austerlitzrefers to the Gared’Austerlitz, or the Austerlitz railway station in Paris. Austerlitz (modern-day Slavkov u Brna in the Czech Republic) was the site of Napoleon’s decisive victory against the allied forces of Russia and Austria. After this battle, the Austrian emperor Francis II was forced to relinquish his title as the Holy Roman Emperor, thus signifying the demise of the Holy Roman Empire. Therefore, La Bagarred’Austerlitzin itself possesses a certain air of finality. We can regard Duchamp’s closing of the window as a type of finality as well, signifying the end of the window’s guiding role in art history. In comparison, the later statements of Hans Belting are somewhat “conservative.” He views art history itself as a kind of “frame” (which can correspond to “window”). The word “frame” itself possesses the meaning of “picture” (Bild). The picture, acting as a “frame,” unquestionably inhabits an art history that is also acting as a “frame.” In other words, art is suitable for placement within the “frame” of art history, and the “frame” of art history has always suited art. Therefore, he does not think of this as a kind of end, but rather an instance of “Aus-Rahmung” (emerging from the frame). The consequence of “Aus-Rahmung” is the self-disintegration of the “frame” acting as a picture; this is because the picture is no longer confined within the frame. This raises a question–has the “picture,” acting as a “frame” or “window,” truly disintegrated?

 

Roughly contemporary to Duchamp, the “grids” of Piet Mondrian did away with the very concept of viewing an external scene. It is as if Mondrian is hinting to us that he has also closed the window. However, Hubert Damisch believes that, to the contrary, the “window” has played an important role in modern art’s march toward abstraction, such as in Robert Delaunay’s Window paintings, Henri Matisse’s French Window at Collioure, and Josef Albers’s Interaction of Color. On an essential level, these works, as well as Mondrian’s “grids” andRené Magritte’s “subconscious windows,”have not fled the window-guided frame of art history.

 

We can see that the “window,” in a classical sense, had already disintegrated a century ago. Abstract art, as a matter of fact, had nothing to do with the “window.” The purpose of this foreshadowing, however, is to try to obtain a new art-historical perspective and approach for Li Qing’s Neighbor’s Window series. Perhaps this was not Li Qing’s starting point or motivation for Neighbor’s Window. To be sure, many people view Li’s choice of abandoned windows for materials as an experiment in medium, one in which the installation acts as the painting, rather than a conceptual consideration arising from the artist’s memory and experience. These people, however, might just have ignored the inherent relationships that connect the window, the painting itself and art history. It is for these reasons that I would rather view the series as a work of painting and dare to place it within the thread of art history to attempt an orderly analysis.

 

Unlike the “windows” present in classical art and abstract painting, the windows in Neighbor’s Window are the physical carriers of the paintings, just as they are the form and subject matter of the images depicted. I believe that an important reason behind Li Qing’s decision to use these abandoned “windows” is that their very forms possess the same characteristics as paintings. In addition to their colors, the marks left on the lattices from peeling paint and the physical nature of the window frame all possess a seemingly artistic touch. It can be seen that, at least in terms of painting form, the “window” and the image painted upon its glass surface form an integral whole. Therefore, from an observer’s perspective, the window blurs the visual boundaries between object and form. At the same time, however, one will feel that the window lattice itself dominates the image; regardless of what is painted upon the glass, it is the physical medium of the “window” that first meets the viewer’s eyes. It is this forced interference that accentuates the abstract form of the “grid” created by the window lattice. Just as Mondrian’s “grids” closed the window, this emphasis itself actually possesses the same abstract nature or feeling of closing-off. Unlike Mondrian’s art, however, the spaces in Li Qing’s “grids”—i.e. the glass background—are covered with a layer of tangible “content.” Additionally, no contradiction exists between the “content” and the window lattice, with the exception of only several instances of “content” that tend toward abstraction (building façades, for instance). Perhaps influenced by the window’s form, most of this content is just the opposite. These pieces draw from the window’s functional properties, as if placing themselves before a window in a real architectural space, and thus form a false image that confuses the observer’s gaze. In addition to this, the painted glass itself also has the function of a mirror. One can say that Neighbor’s Window overlaps the tangible (representation) with the abstract (form). In this regard, whether acting as objects, paintings or art history, Neighbor’s Window unquestionably opens a cognitive passage through modern art. I even believe that if one were to view the painting installation Festival Ended—based on Plate 39: A Heroic Feat! With Dead Men! From Francisco de Goya’s Disasters of War series—as a window, the piece forms a new cognitive mechanism in terms of object, painting and art history. In no way is it a mere parody.

 

In Alberti’s writings, a painting is a “window,” while the “window” itself is an architectural concept. Particularly in architectural structures such as churches, the “window” is not only a material and functional structure; it also acts as a carrier of “light,” and possesses a religious meaning that is similar to “enlightenment.” More importantly, “light” is an important condition and factor for viewing or painting. It is said that during the Renaissance, painters would paint windows over indoor walls as a manner of ornamentation. Alberti’s view of paintings as windows is actually not unrelated to his concurrent architectural studies. The way in which Li Qing’s Neighbor’s Window relies on walls and spaces when exhibited also reveals a relationship to architecture. In the large-scale painting installation Country Cathedral, the link between the two is particularly prominent. It is interesting to note that while completing Neighbor’s Window, his newest work, Li Qing also painted a series of religious-themed works. Country Cathedral makes no attempt to disguise this theme. To be sure, we may think that these works must be grand narratives like the Chinese Christian bookSacred Words upon the Awn of Wheat, but in my opinion the artist utilizes the relationship between the windows of the church (a piece of architecture), light and the double meanings present therein to provide us with a kind of understanding and perception related to the mechanism of painting. Of course, the architectural form of the church’s façade cannot be ignored; it resembles a monument. Here it is a symbol of faith as well as a symbol of painting. The entire architectural façade of the country cathedral is composed of ten windows, and painted upon each window is a modern-style church. An overlap exists between the two, as well as a sort of mirroring. These two aspects are clearly not equal; behind them lies a relationship based on distribution. The modern cathedral in the “mirror” is not only a religious symbol,but also a metaphor for capitalism. In fact, capitalism has already become a kind of faith, just like religion. In that regard, is the wrecked cathedral depicted in the work not a result of the allocation of modern faith? Likewise, in Li Qing’s work Sweet Statue, the artist desecrates another symbolic inspirational figure –Alexander Pushkin—in a different manner. His actions are simple and coarse: pouring melted chocolate over the head of a statue of Pushkin. Here, as a concept or object of consumption, the chocolate naturally produces a feeling of anxiety or absurdity when paired with Pushkin, a historical figure who stands as a symbol of freedom and the spirit. The key to this work is that not only is the melted chocolate the same color as the statue, the method of “pouring” is also a nod to concepts like “covering” in painting and “pouring” in sculpture. Plainly speaking, the artist attempts to create a cognitive link to art history, rather than restricting himself to simple logic such as “symbolism.” Working as a kind of cognitive system, this is reflected in works such as Mementos—Asian Scenery and Music Class. It can even be said to link the entirety of his thoughts and actions during this period.

 

Arcade machines form a common experience in the childhood memories of Li Qing’s generation. Today computers and mobile phones have replaced these devices, dimming people’s minds. Therefore, a memorial-style scene like Mementos—Asian Scenery is undoubtedly a symbol of one generation’s everyday memories. This conceptual explanation, however, clearly seems excessively hasty and insubstantial. In reality, Li Qing’s choice of these objects as a painting medium is in some regard due to the fact that, like windows, arcade machines possess connotations and references related to painting. If discussed from the perspective of “play theory,” Friedrich Schiller’s and Herbert Spencer’s origin of aesthetics, this may seem a tad far-fetched. However, the arcade game’s mobilizationof the player’s touch, vision and even his or her entire body is no different from painting; one can especially see parallels in the aspect of accenting and the sensitivity with which one uses the brush. In the view of Svetlana Alpers, this is a kind of tactile awareness, even approaching Descartes’ statement that touching is a way of seeing. This also indicates that between the arcade machine’s colors and brushwork, the operation of the machines themselves and the aesthetic “play theory,” Li Qing opens a cognitive path for painting. Moreover, an arcade machine’s very screen (including Titanic II, which originated on a television screen) is like a window; discreetly responding to our previous discussion of the “window” and strengthening the concept of its own role as a painting.

 

Music Class, another work drawing from everyday experience, is an installation composed of a diptych painting with steel poles tightly arranged in front of it. The canvas depicts a scene in a ballroom in which a lone figure is enjoying a pole-dancing performance. If one is familiar with Li Qing’s early works, it is not difficult to realize that the diptych appears to form a narrative, yet it clearly is closer to his early Spot the Difference series. Nevertheless, I prefer to hypothesize that this portion of the work, which functions as space on the exhibition floor, is a pair of windows. The perspective structure that the canvases follow is enough to support this hypothesis. In addition, when viewed from a distance, the steel poles resemble curtains. On this basis, the work presents at least three layers of viewing. The watching of the pole dance depicted on canvas constitutes the first layer of viewing. While a ballroom is a public place, the sense of color hints that our viewing of the piece possesses a certain private nature. The viewer in front of the painting forms the second layer of viewing—an observation of observation—and likewise possesses a sense of color and secrecy. Finally, the viewer in front of or between the closely-placed poles forms the third layer of viewing—an observation of observation of observation. In this regard, whether acting as a semi-covered object or as visual interference, the work possesses a sense of privacy and voyeurism. Therefore we can certainly extend the meaning of these densely placed poles to that of a prisoner’s cage, or even through aspects of recent history, such as reflecting on past actions and making self-criticisms regarding capitalistic behavior. I, however see it as a visual concept. In addition, the pole dance on the canvas, the poles arranged before the painting and the method of painting seem to form a theme related to the sense of touch. Nevertheless, touch and vision are both rooted in a sort of consciousness of the very language of painting. One work that corresponds to this notion is The Last Doctrine—After Repin’s “Tolstoy Ploughing” which is not only a response to the history of socialism and realism as well as an act of disrespect against Damien Hirst, but also an experiment in separation aimed at the senses of vision and touch. Here, the role of the painting itself as a window is a visual or observational concept, and the addition of the theme of “ploughing” to the sculpture itself is a clear nod to the sense of touch; the very act of cutting obviously carries with it a meaning of separation. Therefore, from the work’s method of composition to the results that thereby arise, one can clearly observe the artist’s hard efforts to understand painting and the sensory system itself.

 

At this point we have already discovered many cognitive paths in Li Qing’s paintings. These paths do not conflict with one another, nor does any fixed logic or order exist between them. Rather than say that the artist is forming a cognitive painting system, it is better to say that he is breaking down the powers of discernment that exist in painting. Today, as even more modern paintings continue to utilize the language of pictorial form and visual concepts, Li Qing’s methods appear somewhat classical, as well as slyly effective, in comparison. This type of classicism no longer concerns itself with form or concepts, but rather embodies an acknowledgement of painting as well as the very history of post-Renaissance art. Of course, there is no need to evade the question of whether the artist’s choice of abandoned windows is at all related to Liu Wei’s earlier work The Outcast (2007).

 

There is a chance that this explanation may seem to force its arguments through sophistry. However, any attempt at an effective critical analysis and interpretation is bound to be biased. I also do not feel that this explanation’s perspective or approach run contrary to Li Qing’s work or contemporary perception. Likewise, I do not deny that the conceptual interpretation of synchronism has a unique cultural objective, but if one ignores their awareness of art, the very concept of art is unsound. The “window” is actually merely a short-term experiment. As for Li Qing, he is more concerned with whether he can use it to raise questions and then carry his work into deeper and broader spaces. Therefore, it is more akin to a research topic; the present is only a beginning. What we can confirm, however, is that Neighbor’s Window has lost none of its consistent experiential and conceptual awareness, and that it has also continued to preserve its sensitivity and passion for the fundamental language of painting. This “slanted” involvement of art history has at the very least made his perception of painting, as well as the very language he uses in his painting, more robust and three-dimensional.

 

Tanslated by Jeff Crosby