I am a midwife

This painting has taken nearly four months to complete. It was made on a very old sheet of handmade paper—thick, substantial, and rooted in the tradition of intangible cultural heritage. The paper itself was made from Chinese medicinal materials, and it is said to be able to endure for a thousand years.

I have applied the colors countless times. At first glance, the work may appear restrained, inward, even conservative; yet beneath that quiet surface lies an enormous amount of labor, time, and accumulated effort.

Its surface is alive. Although the entire image may seem densely filled, in truth there are spaces within it. Why? Because along the edges, there may be five or six layers of color, while here there may be only two or three. In this way, weight and lightness begin to reveal themselves; emptiness and solidity come into being. All of this manifests something related to **qi**.

Suppose one were to look at it through a high-powered magnifying glass: one would see that there are spaces within the painting. These spaces are what we call the "source of qi". It is flowing; it is not hardened or blocked. These are, in essence, philosophical questions.

The truly great works have not yet fully emerged. Because the style of "Senxiangism" can never be replicated, there is no such thing as “the best”—only something better still to come. This is not like doing homework or taking an exam, where repeating the same paper again and again might eventually lead to a perfect score. This is not an exam. It is an ongoing, open-ended path of creation. It can never be duplicated. The moment one tries to copy it, the painting loses its life.

"Senxiangism" allows each painting to grow into its own particular work—singular, distinct, and unlike any other. Therefore, the truly good works are still ahead.

In recent days, I have come to understand many principles more deeply, especially on the level of artistic law and inner logic. The kind of work I am creating now must come into perfect union with time, place, person, the climate of the present moment, the material nature of the paper, the size of the brush, and the state of mind.

I am a midwife. I allow the paper, the material, the water, and the inner state to come together within the work. Then, slowly—very slowly, without haste—the painting incubates and evolves into being. It is not a matter of designing a composition in advance. What I seek is the surprise of the unexpected. A good work can be awaited, but it can never be copied or deliberately designed into existence.

I believe that truly strong works will certainly become better and more numerous in the future. Because I will paint with increasing ease and freedom, the way the work generates itself will become more and more natural. When the spiritual essence of heaven and earth gathers within it, the work becomes truly one of a kind.