An artist is a detective in the wilderness.
The wilderness of reality is full of hidden caves of history.
With a pair of torchlike eyes, the artist investigates, searches, digs and rummages in the caves for approaches through some scattered materials, some figures, images, models, signs or clues, or some shreds of civilization or cultural relics.
All these lost materials are performing their own soliloquies and trying to prove themselves.
There are no witnesses or informants. Or, even, there’s nobody.
This is the wilderness! Where I live. The wilderness is not in the distant past, not something far away, but the present. The moment the artist truly realizes that he’s in the wilderness is when his detection fails; it’s his very moment of self-affirmation. His searchlight is fixated on what’s in front; Maybe there are other surroundings, but he’s too attracted to look around.
Our paintings are for our present.