Karen Smith: You have explorated the abstract paintings for very long period of time. How do you see the abstract paintings? Why do audiences find it hard to respond to abstract art?
Aniwar: I've never thought that abstract painting is abstract in the literary sense.
When literary writing is used to explain abstract painting, its just that - an abstraction. Abstract painting is a language in itself. It should be understood as a precise language, and as effective as any other. One that is, in its way, more figurative that figurative literature, clearer even. If an artist does not understand this language, then what he/she paints is not abstract. They are merely painting in a form that literary descriptions define abstract. The true visual language of abstract painting is very exact. Exact beyond realism, and beyond reality.
Abstract is not something beyond understanding. It's just that literary explanations are too simple. Perhaps the development and understanding of abstract art in Chinese writing has been limited by the need to explain things. Literary writing hasn't yet entered a completely abstract stage. Yet, painting is offers and opportunity to pursue this quest. Chinese writing has yet to formulate an appropriate vocabulary to explain abstract visual language. This is not only a problem of painting, but in film, photography, light and installation, which are all extensions of abstract language. In this visual realm, abstract is today's... In the 21st century, abstract language has already surpassed traditional Enlightenment thinking. As well as the basic abstract vocabulary that arose to meet the challenges of the changing nature of the material world, and Man's understanding of science and the industrial revolution. Today abstract visual language has surpassed even Einstein's understanding of concrete reality. It is not until you look at it from this perspective that abstraction really begins.
Going back to the last question, it's because the artist doesn't understand abstract language, hasn't created his/her own pure visual language.
To say that not to understand, or not to be meant to understand is exactly because the work is abstract. It's a child's game.
Karen Smith: Regard the works in Subtlety -- painting, photo installation and the drawing--there might seem to be no connection between the works but there is a direct relationship in the structure. It's easy to see superficial differences but the approach and the process behind each one is extremely coherent. It tells the audience to come to another space. Even from the surface, there is no connection among these three different languages, but they are all spaces. The nature of each of the works is tied to the languages used to create it. They are thus separate, yet connected.
Aniwar: The story of the wood [featured in the photography installation] is a simple one. In 1985... In 1984, I came to Beijing to study. In 1985, I was involved in an exhibition. At that time, I didn't know ''installation'' was didn't know what ''performance'' was... I was from Xinjiang. My two classmates, one from Qinghai and one from Dongbei, and I all loved art with passion. We were unaware of the 85' New Wave movement that was unfolding. We didn't know anything. At the end of 1984 we decided to organise our own exhibition. Now twenty years later when I think back on this, it seems so innocent because even in a time of ignorance, we were instinctively creating an experience using music creating our own space using installation, performance, light from candles, and so much more. We even wrote prose that was published in a newspaper. I was a twenty year old young man from the border regions looking for a way to express myself artistically. Of course, this exhibition was closed down during the opening. We were told it wasn't art. They said '' you came to go to school, not to make art''. This piece of wood reminds me of all those experiences. I thought we did it well. It was held in winter, and we had collected dried leaves to spread across the floor in the exhibition. We used candles so that when people walked by the light would create moving shadows. The works were hung at unusual angles. Actually there were no lamps, so of course we had to use candles. But I still felt something was missing so I went to the school yard to see what I could find. The school at the time was still very natural. I found that piece of wood, about this big, from a dead tree. A rotten piece of wood that you couldn't make anything out of, that couldn't be carved because it was too delicate, and that couldn't withstand much pressure or it could break apart. I knew this was what I had been looking for. I painted a little watercolour on the surface. The colour seemed fitting to the alteration of the natural thing. When I put it in the exhibition, no one paid attention to it because well, it was too dark, and you could barely see it. But I thought that it was important. The interesting thing is that when this exhibition was finished, when it was all over, even though all the artworks that were created for that exhibition were lost, when everything else had become trash, this piece of wood managed to stay with me through four years of school, and to move homes with me many times. Even when so many other things were lost, this piece of wood was always there. I don't know why. One day, as I moved to this studio, I came across it in a corner of my home. I decided to bring it to the studio to have a good look at it. In the process of taking pictures of it, I felt that transformed before my eyes into something new. I discovered an enormous element of nature in this small piece of rotten wood. I found in it a metaphoric significance and a reason for being. There is a Chinese saying that ''rotten wood cannot be carved''. So of course you shouldn't aspire to be rotten wood. But I thought that was a perfect thing to describe myself in life. I have no desire to be transformed into something else. I am not anything, but myself, not shaped by any external force. In this rotten piece of wood I found much to ponder. So as I photographed it, I wasn't thinking about the process of taking pictures, I entered a whole new metaphysical space.
Karen Smith: Please tell us more about the way you work, how do you start to paint? And how to finish? What's the process?
Aniwar: I seldom begin a work with a plan in mind. I start with a natural mood. This is a personal process I have evolved. From my education it was expected that you would have a clear idea about what you were creating whenever you began a work. You set a goal to achieve a projected outcome. I don't think any goal is important. Nor is a result necessary. In the end, what is art. How should an artist confront his own works, his own life. As you mature, you understand that this is not something that words can depict or determine. It is so subtle, so sensitive, so delicate, it's really so delicate. What you seek can be altered by a ray of light, so that actually you cannot find the thing you are looking for. Because one day you might be at an emotional low you don't see what you should be able to see, but this is exactly the kind of space that I think art gives us, and this space is extremely vast. If you find a way into this space, you might decide it is so big, you can run in it, you can do anything in there. When you can't find the way into this space, it appears so narrow that you can't move, and it restricts you at every turn. When you are driven by ambition then you can easily become blocked. But if you allow yourself the quiet of mind to follow your instinct, then you receive the widest space possible in which to create. Art rewards you with a huge space, and you can do as you wish.
