Horse and Rose is recorded in Chen’s dream journal as follows:

Dream: July 17, 2005
I am alone and running as fast as I can. I almost crash into a car. On the dirt road ahead I see a horse-drawn cart. The cart is loaded up with flower pots. There are tropical plants with thorns and there are the usual roses. I can’t bring them back, so I don’t need to ask the price. I see that on the horse’s head is a big bouquet of roses. I don’t know if the flowers are to feed the horse or for decoration.

Chen Haiyan brings her dreams to life in bold, expressionistic woodblock prints and paintings, rich with ink. Her signature process began with small etchings on wood, based on entries from her dream diaries, which she has been writing in since 1981, but have since grown to large-scale woodcuts carved into hard pearwood panels. The events of her dreams often mimic her daily life, and are filled with whimsy, anxiety, and, at times, anger.

© Chen Haiyan, photo courtesy of the artist

Late Rabbit has all the elements of a traditional Chinese painting—inscribed colophon, brocade mounting, mountainous landscape—but is created not with brush and silk, but pen on paper. The pattern of Joey Leung Ka-yin’s silk brocade is entirely hand-drawn; her inscription emulates a computer typeface. It reads:

Reminiscent of traditional Chinese paintings in composition, this work in Yao Jui-Chung’s “fake landscapes” series intentionally usurps the so-called orthodoxy. An isolated hut among mountains and mists traditionally indicates a lofty scholar’s reclusion—a literati pursuit. This painting, however, features a surprising secret lover. Painted with pens instead of brushes, decorated with flamboyant colors and gold leaves, this painting expresses an unavoidable influence of China’s traditions and the artist’s rebellion against it.

This work incorporates a symbol of rope braiding—a traditional folk art—into the landscape. The twisting parallel lines were executed with a special brush that the artist invented by dividing the hair of a wide brush into several subgroups, thus generating several thin lines of paint. The upper mountains were painted on crumpled paper. By manipulating the line, form, and space, this fantastic and majestic dreamscape emerged from the artist’s unique style and technique.

© Estate of Chu Ko, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva

This painting depicts a landscape among misty clouds, where the flow of qi (energy) is carefully rendered. Superimposed on natural scenery are fragmented forms, geometric doodles, and discursive lines that evoke urban architecture, digital signals, or the formation of Heaven and Earth. The broken lines are similar to the ox-hair texture strokes (niumao cun), yet the reference is overwhelmed by Leung Kui-ting’s modern twist, where he harmonizes traditional Chinese landscape paintings with modern spatial aesthetics.

Wang Tiande’s signature technique came out of a chance happening when, in 2002, the artist’s cigarette fell onto his paper. In his works today, he intentionally sears his paper using lit sticks of incense in place of a brush, layering burned landscapes and calligraphy atop paintings in ink and brush, allowing for glimpses of ink to peak through the negative space of his burnt strokes.

© Wang Tiande, photo: LACMA

The secret to understanding Qiu Shihua’s artwork lies in the time one spends with it. Almost impossible to perceive at first glance, Qiu’s nearly-white landscapes are actually painted in shades of red, blue, and yellow. Essential to the artist’s work is qiyun, or spirit resonance: as opposed to conveying a formal likeness, he aims to convey the spirit of his subject, so that it may resonate with future viewers.

© Qiu Shihua, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva

Fung Ming Chip is a reformer of calligraphy, morphing a millennia-old tradition into a practice that reflects contemporary life. He has created more than one hundred calligraphic scripts throughout his career. For Needle Script, the artist blurs the divide between the interior and exterior spaces of his characters by punctuating lightly-painted lines with rich black strokes, slashed across his paper. Fung stamps two of his own hand-carved seals on Accidentally Passing, seen in the upper right and lower left corners. The calligraphy reads: