Nightfall Epistle / Curatorial Text
Gao Jiangbo
Nightfall Epistle always points to an aesthetics of suspension, as embodied by the doves and apples in *Imagination of Descent I & II*. Premonition is embedded in the starry night beneath a bright full moon in a state of positive-negative tension. Through “the envelopment of the visible by the invisible”, the concealment and manifestation of all things interweave within the mutual penetration of light and darkness—a chiasmic interplay—that gradually draws near and settles in the viewer’s field of vision.
Featuring new works alongside pieces from his past three series, this exhibition presents 20 works by Lai Chongcheng. The intertwined forces of “dissipation” and “reshaping” converge into an overarching narrative of “dissolution”. Classic art historical motifs including snakes, apples and conch shells are stripped of their original textual contexts, such as the Eden narrative, and reintroduced into the canvas as independent forms. Branch-like serpentine shapes wind through plant root systems; the fractal, spiraling structures of conchs fragment into spreading color blocks and rugged snow-capped peaks; the wings of Icarus are frozen within the void outlined by pale madonna-blue silk. Such dissolution is not a misreading of classics, but a reconstruction of art historical memory into nourishment for premonition, oscillating and reverberating endlessly across his paintings.
Elements within the canvas descend into reality amid the imagination of dissolution. Human figures recede behind animals and still lifes, enclosed by flourishing vegetation, as metaphorical carriers evolve into mediums of premonition. Faded snake sloughs, scorched trees and fissured conchs offer new directional cues for the currents of transience and dissolution. From the physical convergence of humans and conchs in *The Temptation of Saint Anthony* to the functional implication of a conch dwelling hinted by faint footprints in *The Hermit’s Hut*, the Northern Renaissance tradition of probing truth through meticulous detailing is reborn in Lai’s paintings in a renewed visual language. As Merleau-Ponty noted in *Phenomenology of Perception*, “night strips vision of its primacy, compelling the body to turn to more primal senses such as touch and hearing”.
From his earlier series *Twin Nights* to **Letters from the Night**, Lai continuously interrogates the essence of night. The compelling power of night explains the artist’s deliberate turn to the lengthy, intricate craft of classical painting. This shift stems not merely from a personal absorption and re-examination of art history, but also as a resistance against the erasure of embodied experience in the cyber age. The classical technique of layered glazing and subtle highlighting is akin to drawing tangible objects from the void of night, relying heavily on intuition and indirect sensory perception. Why are cardinal red and madonna-blue so perfectly suited to his palette? Perhaps within the primordial darkness of art history’s distant nights, such choices carry no nostalgic sentiment, but rather signal an ontological return to painting itself. The inherent meaning of painting originates from the materiality of pigment, rather than superimposed conceptual ideas. The sacred and solemn hues of blue and red—symbolizing heaven and blood—have always resided within the intuitive darkness.
For Lai, “night” functions both as a core theme and a creative methodology. In his early practice, his exploration of classical subjects refined the literary dimension of his painting. Through quotation and expansion of specific figures and allusions, he established an interrogative mode of viewing. While his earlier works lingered within the symbolic legacy of classical iconography and literary references, his new pieces fully internalize formal strategies including symmetrical division, internal-external nesting, positive and negative space, and structural isomorphism into this interrogative viewing system. In this sense, night—as both subject and method—corresponds to the inherent indirectness and ambiguous readability that define the evolution of his practice.
The titular work *Letters from the Night* epitomizes this nested, microcosmic mode of interpretation, illuminating the extended metaphor of the “letter”. The intertextuality between blank letter paper and moonlit scenery mirrors a contemporary existential predicament: an overabundance of information paired with a vacuum of meaning, fostering a state of “giving without substance”. We can no longer rest easy beneath the neon afterglow of digital light, as insomnia and round-the-clock revelry numbing our aesthetic sensibilities instead. Here, the realism of glazing merges with free lyrical expression. The crumpled texture of letter paper, diffused halos, and the gradual tonal transitions of mountains and waves all become material manifestations of premonition, encapsulated within poetically rendered realism.
Works including *The Tower*, *Inspiration and the Writer* and *The Sorrowful Monkey* correspond to three major signifiers in Lai’s early creation: objects, humans and animals. These motifs anchor multi-dimensional viewing perspectives, their significance extending far beyond inherent symbolism, deepening continuously throughout the process of dissolution. *The Tower* constructs ambiguous narration through shifting visual scales: clusters of clouds surrounding the spire resolve into flocks of doves as the viewer draws near, crafting a layered visual journey and renewed interpretive pathways.
As a recurring title across his oeuvre, *Inspiration and the Writer* traces narrative shifts between old and new works—from a writer coexisting with symbolic elements within a single canvas, to a figure engaging in intertextual dialogue with the entire exhibition. Painting’s narrative scope expands beyond individual pieces to the whole exhibition and his ongoing creative practice, forming a polyphonic chorus of interconnected themes and imaginations. In *The Sorrowful Monkey*, animals serve as allegorical mirrors of humanity, embodying ineffable psychological undertones absent from human figures. His subsequent Icarus series further evolves this device: bird wings woven from madonna-blue silk elevate animal imagery from mere reflective mirrors to silhouettes of omen and premonition.
“A tonsured monk, his face half-discerned, wanders hesitantly along the shore. Surging waves billowing like distant sails gaze upon jagged reefs, as a dark curtain descends, concealing a storm spreading from the horizon to the vault of the sky, poised to engulf the monk’s fragile figure. Yet amid the storm’s densest gloom, a rift of clear sky breaks through, halting the encroaching freeze of ultimate darkness.”
During exhibition preparation, Lai repeatedly referenced Caspar David Friedrich’s *The Monk by the Sea*. Crafted with quiet precision nearly two centuries ago, this masterpiece depicts nature’s overwhelming grandeur and beauty, evoking a premonition of peril to confront and subdue human hubris amid the early Industrial Revolution. **Letters from the Night** extends this very sense of premonition, seeking to instill humility amid today’s fast-paced era through tender yet startling visual poetics. The letter, much like the colossal full moon suspended in mid-air, stirs quiet unease while illuminating message bottles washed ashore by the rising tide. It grants us the power to gaze deeply, and offers solace in equal measure.
Text by Gao Jiangbo
策展人手札
文/周颖