ABOUT

Chitfu began his artistic career trained in the traditional styles of Chinese painting. It was a millennia long history guided, in the most part, by the Confucian ethic. The best aspects of humanity and society were understood to be represented in painting: good manners, gentle demeanor, kind sentiments, respect for elders and so forth.

The means of visual expression that were most esteemed were kept simple and understated: ink, paper and brush. The “Literati” class of artists developed during the Sung Dynasty eschewed most of the visual clues that fashioned imagery. These artists made paintings without resort to light with its attendant shadows and modeling, without foregrounds or backgrounds, without perspectival devices and without color. They could even playfully boast in descriptions of their work as being without “ink”, without “brush” and without “paper”. The meaning of such statements is clear enough for what remains long after the experience of art is an essence, an intangible feeling.

Chinese painters found landscapes or subjects drawn from nature as early as the eighth century and rightfully claim this genre as their greatest achievement. But landscapes, for the Chinese, were not just an avowal of love for nature. In fact, Chinese landscape artists did not work out-of-doors to record specific sites. Nature was a metaphor for the human condition. Consider, for example, the Three Friends in Winter: the bamboo, the plum blossom and the pine tree. The bamboo represents the gentleman who is bowed but unbroken, the plum blossom, which appears while snow is still on the ground, stands for the courage of man in the face of adversity and the pine tree, as an evergreen, informs us about a steadfast and dependable character.

In contrast to the Oriental painting tradition favoring decorum, art in the West has always been open to scenes of pain and violence. One can cite the Crucifixion, followed by depictions of torture and torment of the damned in hell. Bosch and other Netherlandish artists did not shy away from such subjects. In more recent times Goya’s “Disasters of War” graphic series is a dramatic reminder in which Picasso’s Guernica finds its place.

Much of Chitfu’s life has been spent in the United States, either in California or in the New York Metropolitan area, and he has always been mindful of the Western tradition in depicting Man’s Cruelty to Man. Over his long career he maintained his Confucian ideal preferring a sense of decorum in his work as opposed to the Western indulgence into the cruel and seamier side of life. Quite suddenly, about a year ago, his attitude changed in a dramatic way. Chitfu started a series of paintings of portraits fraught with anguish and despair. It looked as though Chitfu had succumbed to the ethos of the West. The drama in these paintings reflected a profound change. For the first time in his life Chitfu was able to express feelings that were previously kept under wraps: anger, rage, fury. He does not talk about what sparked this radical change. The paintings speak for themselves.

It looked as though recent art history had surfaced in Chitfu’s consciousness. The twentieth century began with momentous changes: Expressionism in Germany, Futurism in Italy, and Fauvism in France followed by Cubism, and last but not least, Constructivism in Russia. Political revolutions in China and Russia were critical events as well. Changes in both style and subject matter radically redirected the course of the visual arts in the twentieth century. The mix of visceral and psychic qualities in Chitfu’s portraits relate to the works of such painters as Soutine, Schiele and Munch. More immediate antecedents are Francis Bacon and de Kooning. Influences may go back as well to the mask painters like Nolde and Ensor. In general artists of the School of New York after World War II embraced every drip and slashing stroke to find a place on the canvas. All these influences were kept at bay until this recent series of “portrait” paintings began, and then Chitfu embraced them with fervor.

Now we have a series of paintings expressing raw emotions; a powerful and gripping achievement. These over-sized heads are fragmentary and contorted as they inhabit a murky field shifting in and out of focus. They may remind one of the famous Dragon Scroll in the Boston Museum of Art which depicts the revered heavenly creature, shrouded by mists and clouds, partially visible and partly hidden.

Chitfu has finally given voice to a Western sensibility and the dark side of life. What is remarkable is the fact that he has realized this change by the traditional and economical Oriental means, namely, ink, paper and brush. He has also returned to a typical Chinese format: the tall vertical hanging scroll that was used for monumental effect. The aesthetic life of an artist is full of surprises. This current series of portrait paintings by Chitfu represents a welcome surprise.

— Dr Philip Gould, Art Historian, Professor Emeritus