Xiao Bo talks about Wu Shan

Neighbor

My studio is on the second floor, Wu Shan’s on the third floor. Occasionally, we share tea. Our conversations mostly revolve around art, we always enjoy the talk to the full.

Repair

Decades of stable living rhythms have rendered Wu Shan’s work almost mundane. Lines dominate his visual language. In our upbringing, lines were burdened with excessive cultural symbolism, but in Wu Shan’s work, they are daily imprints of the body, honest traces of labor. The lines guide thoughts; as ideas emerge, they alter the direction of the lines, rise and fall. The trajectories form an outer layer of thought, enveloping consciousness and subtle emotions, glowing faintly. While reading his work, we see his self-restoration after regulating breath, using a visual order to mend a chaotic reality.

Subtraction

Wu Shan’s early works reveal an abundance of visual language and expressive intent layered on the canvas. Yet his practice has long being refining and simplifying. Years of distillation have rendered his language and concepts clearly, resonating deeply within our visual experience. The body drifts unintentionally into emptiness, conversing with time and space, forging a silent accord.

Space

Years of grinding his craft have allowed a spatial structures to emerge effortlessly in Wu Shan’s work, delivering surprise moments over and over again. The deliberate interplay of space feels like raindrops falling softly, effortless. Once effort is applied, the magic is lost. When viewers engage with the work, they often wander through space alongside the lines. The stability of these spatial relationships creates a sanctuary—a constant, wordless comfort that accommodates unexpected shifts without losing integrity. This constancy astonishes me.

Unknown

Accidents and spontaneity align with the relaxing aura of the lines. The unknown becomes essential material. Serenity allows room for misalignments, for behind every line lies a cohesive conceptual framework—a holistic view, a trust in painting itself. It is this unpredictability that fuels infinite possibilities. In fact, this unscripted journey is the most vital element of Wu Shan’s practice.

Song of Movement

“Strolling through white-clouded peaks, seated among bamboo groves.” As the brush glides slowly across the canvas surface, I believe that human and the world become one. Such unconscious projection nourishes artistic creation profoundly. I believe that art grows; long-term labor inevitably carves its own path. Consciousness merely accompanies it—or perhaps protects the unconscious. Through his unwavering faith and practice, Wu Shan has affirmed his own existence.