Chinese artist Ji Dachun (b. 1968), who is currently based between Beijing and Berlin, belongs to the early 1990s generation of artists hailing from the Central Academy of Fine Arts, whose boundary pushing, experimental practices transformed contemporary Chinese art. Vacillating between figuration and abstraction, Ji deftly references both Eastern and Western themes and techniques, forging an entirely new artistic style that defies easy categorization.

Opening on December 27, 2024, Ji will be the subject of a solo exhibition with Aye Gallery, Beijing, “Images, Time, and Boundaries,” showcasing a range of recent wholly abstract paintings—a departure from his earlier work and practice. Here, Ji leverages the compositional structures of traditional Chinese landscape paintings to tap into psychological, experiential themes and ideas.

Ahead of the show’s opening, we reached out to Ji to learn more about what’s in store, and what inspired his more recent move toward total abstraction.

Artist Ji Dachun. Courtesy of Aye Gallery, Beijing.

Can you tell us a bit about the works going on view in the forthcoming solo with Aye Gallery?

This will be my fourth gallery show with Aye Gallery, and what makes it unique is that both solo exhibitions will take place simultaneously in Beijing and Berlin. It is a silly idea because I don’t expect either exhibition to be ideal. The show in Beijing features smaller pieces with various abstract expressions. I hope that while trying to convey a desire for a continuous and deeper understanding of painting, the audience will appreciate how the skin of images emerges from a paradoxical balance of relaxation and restraint.

While your earlier work to date has contained features of figuration and representation, your most recent work is dedicated to abstraction. What prompted this shift?

My interest in painting stems from instinct and inspiration from legends of artists I’ve heard about. Initially, I developed a love for Impressionism, American Abstract Expressionism, as well as Baroque, the Renaissance, and Italian medieval art. My explorations also touch on contemporary Western art and ancient Chinese calligraphy and painting. I find that abstraction, which emphasizes the language of painting, and figurative expression have always coexisted. For me, the constant switching between these two styles helps to keep my head fresh and clear. However, there are always more people who favor content over abstraction, which often leaves me feeling like I’m in a state of mild failure.

Ji Dachun, Flickering Lights (2021). Courtesy of Aye Gallery, Beijing.

Where do you typically look to for inspiration? Were there any specific sources you focused on for this exhibition?

My sources are the works of various prominent artists, including those in art history and those that aren’t in art history. I enjoy selecting elements from these mature works and taking them to the extreme—emphasizing their shortcomings and accentuating their vantages. I also incorporate my habits, flaws, paranoia, and misinterpretations to shape the final outcome. Everything is concrete except for technique.

What role does the dichotomy between Eastern and Western artistic traditions play in your practice or approach to art-making?

“Being an Asian artist who resonates with Western contemporary art is contradictory. [Yet these are contradictions that have yet to be fully unravelled.] You cannot simply pretend to be a Western artist, nor can you assemble Eastern symbols to fill your picture. Employing scientific or philosophical theories as turpentine to dilute the integrity of your art and lubricate dubious motives is not a valid approach.

Generations of Eastern artists are merely imitating generations of Western art—what’s the point of all that?

Ji Dachun, Orange Garden (2020). Courtesy of Aye Gallery, Beijing.

What would you like the viewer experience of your work to be like? What do you want visitors to take away with them?

I never thought about it before. Forcing someone to drink douzhi or learn a foreign language can be pretty uncomfortable. If a friend chats with me after visiting the exhibition and shares their favorite artist or artwork, it would bring me much joy.

However, I hope anyone who visits the exhibition reads this beforehand and approaches it with tolerance.

What are the core elements of your creative process? Do you have everything planned out before you begin, or is it more spontaneous?

So far, painting remains my favorite part. Perhaps this is because I have lived in Europe for a long time and have gradually come to understand various forms of contemporary art beyond paintings. This has allowed me to form an image in my mind of a perfect painting—one with beautiful imperfections in every translucent layer of the process like Jasper Johns, the seeming simplicity and quiet weight of Mark Rothko, the composed dexterity and clumsiness of Richard Wright, the calm and unadorned of Huang Gongwang, the reckless precision and control of Picasso, and the strikingly ordinary yet unique qualities of Jan Van Eyck … It’s not planned or spontaneous; it’s simply a thought.

Ji Dachun, Rain (2019). Courtesy of Aye Gallery, Beijing.

Are you currently working on anything that you can tell us about? Or do you have plans for what you want to work on next?

Right now, the dual exhibition situation might turn out to be less-than-perfect. Fortunately, I have nothing to do except for painting and visiting exhibitions. I don’t speak the language, so there are no chat-ups, and no one can bother me. Although much has been said about my aspirations, I doubt anyone will believe me when I say I’m practicing left- and right-hand combat. Every day, I look forward to drawing or discovering something new, even if it’s just a tiny progress.

“Ji Dachun: Images, Time, and Boundaries” in on view at Aye Gallery, Beijing, December 27, 2024, through March 4, 2025.