Jan 25, 2024
Zhou Meng: On Mount Buzhou, the Entrance to Reality
In the age of gods, Mount Buzhou was the pillar of heaven on earth.
When it fell, the worlds of gods and humans were forever separated.
Mount Buzhou symbolizes incompleteness and disaster.
Or rather, it is itself a collection of incompleteness and disaster.
Using the mythological metaphor of Mount Buzhou, Zhou Meng’s exhibition "Mount Buzhou · Yuanqiu Hill" opens at Nanke Gallery.
The narrow and elongated layout of the old Shanghai mansion,
with the height of the third floor and the single-person wide corridors,
makes the exhibition experience feel like climbing a mountain.
Scattered throughout the "mountain" are Zhou Meng’s works.
As I walked and picked up symbols awakened by different materials:
Western Christmas trees, Eastern mysticism, ancient murals, modern totems;
materials and cultures intricately intertwined and juxtaposed
...
At certain moments, these binary structures fade, leading people into unfamiliar yet familiar life experience rituals.
Zhou Meng himself is a mediator of different cultures, having traveled between the UK and China for the past 10 years.
Growing up in Asia and educated in Europe, his travels span the globe,
with some particularly unconventional materials in his creations collected from these journeys.
Zhou Meng's art is composed of these fragments, derived from his local and global experiences,
subtly orchestrating his artistic expression between "illusion" and "reality."
Understanding Zhou Meng is like a drama; the first act is his dreamlike works.
They attempt to create an open dialogue through seemingly seamless narratives:
“I think the word ‘Buzhou’ can be interpreted in many ways;
it can mean incomplete, imperfect, or not self-centered.
Everyone has their own perspective, and I find the word’s expansiveness particularly beautiful.”
In the story of the god who crashed into the heavenly pillar,
there is no place for humans, but he anticipates different people's experiences with his work,
even in a relatively closed space like a gallery.
Zhou Meng, Star Flash 1, 2023
Clam powder, Dunhuang soil, deer hide glue, ink, wood panel
100h x 100w cm / 105h x 105w cm (framed)
Beyond aesthetic pleasure, the second act belongs to his reality.
The exhibition is densely populated with various black figures;
their bodies imply intentions that words cannot precisely convey.
In many of his works, the “hand” as a key organ repeatedly appears:
outstretched hands, dancing hands, hands pointing to the void...
Gestures become a form of information exchange when the body is stripped of its linguistic function,
subtly discussing issues Zhou Meng is concerned about.
In our conversation,
Zhou Meng frequently mentioned his focus on real-world issues,
with direct expressions making mythological stories seem like a guise.
During the height of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,
he posted a series of iPad drawings on social media, where bodies intertwined in combat,
ending with a self-reflective battle and the words “There is no winner.”
Zhou Meng，There is no winner 1-4，2023
Drawing on an iPad is not new, nor without opposition.
An art professor once told Zhou Meng, “An iPad is not like paper; it lacks warmth,”
to which Zhou Meng replied, “It’s eco-friendly.”
New tools may create new problems, and new problems lead to new solutions.
Zhou Meng has 100,000 followers on social media, with some fans wanting to tattoo his works,
and he readily agrees: “Some people collect my paintings with money;
others with their bodies.
Creating electronically and having it turned into tattoos is something unique to this era.”
The allure of mythological imagery is filled with mysterious temptation,
only for those who look closely to find it lined with thorns.
Zhou Meng, What Night Is This 1，2020
Ganoderma, soapthorn thorns, paper pulp, Tesla car trunk lid，
102h x 148w x 90d cm
In Zhou Meng’s reality,
moments of doubt and frustration inevitably exist outside our conversation, residing in his real life.
Zhou Meng doesn’t shy away from discussing these moments,
sometimes using humor to lighten the weight of reality.
Our interview revolves around “how to be an artist” and “the real issues artists face.”
Q： You mentioned traveling extensively to collect different materials globally.
How do you choose and combine these materials?
How do they complement your intentions?
A： Sometimes superficially, sometimes deeply.
Collecting things is a habit, leading to many fragments from around the world.
These fragments don’t hold specific meanings until used in certain works.
Like the work displayed on the top floor, the hook-thorn seeds from Madagascar resemble coronaviruses,
but I cut off their sharp parts and replaced them with pearls,
transforming from danger to beauty.
This piece expresses an extraterrestrial object scattering various time-related information,
with fossils and plants being its past reflections.
Fossils are straightforward, representing the past and becoming part of the environment,
but some materials are more obscure.
So, this work includes elements for beauty, meaning, and different demands.
Zhou Meng，ditto，2023
Q： Since 2014, you’ve been educated and lived in the UK for 10 years.
What feelings and changes have you experienced?
A： I studied oil painting in the UK, where nothing is taught in class;
students explore on their own.
Perhaps because post-war art movements in the UK deconstructed traditional definitions of “art” and “technique,”
these ultimately transform into “self-definition” – how you understand yourself and find yourself.
At that time, everyone sought the most painful memories,
very bitter,
without strong technical skills,
focusing on the essence and truth of human nature.
This educational approach guided our thoughts, teaching us how to convey ourselves genuinely to society.
But the problem is, society doesn’t need all expressions.
Many of my university classmates didn’t continue as artists;
finding a place in society took a long time post-graduation.
Many fine arts students graduate annually, but their expressions and creations don’t always find a suitable context.
Q： What made you choose to continue as an artist professionally?
A： Probably because I felt unsuitable for anything else.
My definition of art is broad;
anything fun is art: making movie posters or designing theater stages.
It’s all a way to reach others.
As for being a full-time artist, my family’s financial support helps, so with better conditions, I need to be more dedicated.
Though not needing to consider commercialization,
overly self-centered work can disconnect from reality, leading to self-doubt.
There’s a constant tug-of-war between self and society.
When praised, I wonder if I should do more, questioning if my ideas remain pure.
This cycle of internal conflict continues.
Q： How did you gradually find what you truly want to do?
A： In different states, I create different fragments.
Fragments sometimes form various puzzles but can also be rearranged.
Accumulated thoughts, sensitivity to materials, and perception of painting present differently at different stages.
Q： Do you mind commercial attempts to explore being an artist as a professional identity?
A： If you close the door to create, it’s personal growth regardless of what you do.
But when you open the door, societal affairs are unavoidable. Artists are no different.
It depends on how you define commercialization: producing products for economic gain?
I haven’t sold anything to the public through online media.
I spread what I believe or like, finding a suitable audience.
Art channels are narrow because the general audience rarely encounters art directly in daily life.
Art collecting is a high-end industry, disconnected from the public.
Q： Do you need dialogue with the public?
A： Finding a suitable community through new media and communication methods is great.
They may not buy or influence my work, but as an artist, I hope my creations communicate with people.
Previously, I tried mimicking ancient Greek pottery on iPads,
combining mythological stories with modern technology into a contemporary totem, and these black figures are borderless.
After posting on social media, people liked it, with some using my drawings for tattoos.
Art needs to be learned and shared.
Some collect works with money, while pure art lovers use their bodies to collect my works, which I find romantic.
I don’t reject more promotion on social media to reach more people.
Creating in galleries and on social media are non-conflicting states.
I can do pure, physical material works,
but some creations suit online promotion, like electronic creations becoming tattoos.
This is unique to our time.
Zhou Meng, The Rite of Spring 1 ，2020，
170h x 170w cm，
PVA, paper, paper pulp, ink, canvas
Zhou Meng, The Rite of Spring 2，2020，
170h x 170w cm，
PVA, paper, paper pulp, ink, canvas
Q： Is more dialogue with the audience a difference between contemporary and previous artists?
A： If art is pure, open, and infinite in possibilities, why define and limit it as “contemporary”?
Is this the correct way to view art (and artists)?
Given so many possibilities, I choose the most convenient way to communicate,
whether offline or online,
each having its audience.
There are too many works in the art market recreating traditional art definitions with existing thought frameworks.
Even if iPad drawings lack market value, I hope to find a societal place for them.
Art is an open, orderly yet disorderly existence.
Many define artists as aloof, self-admiring, and detached from the world.
While such artists exist, those wanting close societal ties and to embrace people should also exist.
Q： What other real issues do artists face today?
A： It depends on how you solve problems; some don’t try or dare to.
I once encountered a British professor who hated my iPad drawings, saying it “lacks warmth,”
to which I replied, “It’s eco-friendly.”
He then walked away.
Q： Increasing new problems and solutions are emerging today.
A： He felt materials bring natural feelings, which I don’t find problematic.
Art’s legacy spans years, with everyone comparing.
Creating a unique style is difficult.
Other languages or disciplines develop upwardly,
but art often returns to the origin before redevelopment, making breakthroughs challenging.
Personal preference matters too.
Apple products accompanied our generation.
Combining era-specific traces while preserving classical elegance,
using different media for spiritual impact, not just aesthetics,
could make electronic displays better than traditional easel works.
Sculptures and similar works on social media struggle for audience empathy,
whereas electronic drawings or flat content have unique textures.
Q：How do you handle gaps and disparities between global and local dialogues?
A： The Western art world’s mainstream is “minority culture,”
while Chinese culture is concrete and majority, a strong cultural system not needing foreign support.
For many foreign curators and collectors, Chinese art is self-contained with a single market.
This cultural exclusion makes it difficult for Chinese artists in the system.
Q：What are your biggest gains from switching between and colliding with different cultures?
A： Gaining no favor from either side.
Though art is an open dialogue, my chosen materials and creation methods are non-mainstream,
especially my interests, whether ancient life, fossils, or time, lack timely content.
The Western art scene favors individual reflection, societal and political expression.
Asian culture deeply explores “things.”
The former is extroverted, the latter introverted.
My subtle expressions may not achieve desired effects.
In Asia, the expression seems excessive;
in this ambiguous state, I don’t fully pursue pure creation but have personal content to express.
Chinese expression, like an illusion in the West, reflects but hides beneath the surface,
whereas in Asia, it reflects and sometimes isn’t seen.
Art and politics are inseparable.
Western exploration of Chinese culture often seeks political insight through art.
When discussing pure culture or tradition,
it resembles viewing a natural or cultural heritage museum, not a contemporary museum.
Many works seem gentle in domestic voices, avoiding sharp issues, making art expression soft overall.
For the general public, many works look good but rarely resonate with personal experiences.
The overly commercialized Western scene also fails to provide an open environment as imagined.
Curators or friends ask, “You have expressions on politics or tendencies, but why aren’t they in your work?”
This is my dilemma.
I recognize the world’s darkness and injustice and want to voice it.
However, art creation is an independent pursuit.
Whether they must merge requires dialectical exploration.
Zhou Meng, Wild Algae Dance 1，2023，
60h x 60w cm / 66.6h x 66.6w cm （framed) ，
Clam powder, Dunhuang soil, deer hide glue, ink, wood panel
Q： You mentioned seeing the “ceiling” for becoming an artist. Where is it?
A： For the past 50 years, no mainstream Asian artist has held an exhibition at Tate.
From past to present, Asian artists’ space in the UK remains narrow.
Q： When expressing outwardly, do you protect your locality?
A： For me, Eastern rhythm is like rhyming, with its cadence, but the written words needn’t rhyme.
Cultural influences subtly shape me, forming part of my puzzle.
Zhou Meng, if you love or not 1，2023
Zhou Meng, if you love or not 2，2023
Producer：Tiffany Liu
Editor：Simone Chen
Interview and Writing：Daye
Design：Nina
Images Provided: Nanke Gallery