Once in a while, within the confines of political constraints on the one hand and commercialism on the other, one see glimpses of the unusual and innovative in China’s capital. The recent exhibition of oil paintings by Fang Lijun and Liu Wei was such an occasion.

　　Organized by Francesca Del Lago and Enrico Perlo of the Painting Den, the exhibit at the Capital Museum in Wanshou Temple was a breath of fresh air in this city which has had few bursts of creativity, publicly anyway, in the past few years.

　　Fang Lijun’s untitled paintings astonish viewers; bald-headed figures in various poses, eerie in their facial expressions. In one work, a man’s face contorts, mouth agape in a yawn while other men in the background look blankly into space. In another, Fang repeats the form of a leather jacket-clad man several times across the canvas. Hands in his pockets, he smirks mockingly at the viewer. A group of old men stand around in another painting, each deeply involved in his own private world. All these figures are bald.

　　In shaving their heads, young or old, Fang universalizes his subjects. They are the faces of ordinary people, ruminating on the many facets of their everyday lives. A graduate of the woodcut department of the Central Academy of Fine A1-ts, the 27-year-old painter is skilful in this deliberate presentation of his subject matter. The shaved heads, the mocking expressions of the faces, the background dew)id of any setting save for the bright blue sky and white clouds, the usage of bright colours all heighten the sense of the absurd, and yet, at the same time, evoke a feeling of camaraderie for the figures. They become one of us. In looking at the homely faces, one begins to laugh with them rather than at them.

　　The same sense of humanism evoked through ugliness also permeates Liu Wei’s work. Liu, also 27 and a classmate of Fang Lijun at the woodcut department of the Central Academy, paints portraits of relatives and friends. In a painting of his father watching television, Liu depicts a middle-aged man in army uniform in profile, eyes bulging and teeth protruding, while on the TV screen appear the garishly made-up hero and heroine of a Peking opera in bright red and green costumes.

　　In the wedding portrait of his sister, the bride has her arm around the groom in a casual pose as for a snapshot. In the foreground is the same profile of his father. These are faces of people he knows well, but disturbingly distorts in his rough brushwork.

　　In a portrait of a friend of his father, he depicts a man from the waist up, hatted and in decorated uniform gazing intently at the viewer, his body disproportionately small. Behind him is a small rooky hill and a helicopter hovering against a shockingly turquoise sky. The portrait of this soldier is a far cry from the idealised PLA prototype seen in Chinese propoganda.

　　The improbable colours, the distortions, the humourous placement of objects are devices Liu uses to mock the banality of his reality. Yet from this caricatured portrayal there is a sense of intimacy and familiarity that he is only too aware of: these people are his relatives as only he knows how to present them.

　　Fang Lijun, who comes from Hebei province, currently lives and paints in his studio in an artist’s community near Beijing University. His work will be exhibited in Hong Kong, Australia and Berlin next year. Liu Wei lives with his parents in a military residential compound. Plans are now underway for his works to be shown in Australia.

作者：John,Batten