ABOUT ME ABOUT ME ABOUT ME ABOUT ME
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A member of The National Artist Association China;
A member of The Royal Art Society of NSW;
A MFA researcher of The Fine Arts College of The University of NSW;
A full time artist;
A multi-art prize winner.
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Art
Radiation and Phillip Chen
Interview by RENEE BARBARO
Despite the rumours about our brains frying from mobile phone radiation, phone sales would indicate that we really don't care. Apparently there are major spy organisations that have access to every detail of our lives through bank records, dental records, Marilyn Manson records. Whatever.
For some time, it would seem the negative possibilities of a complete cyber-future haven't had quite the impact that they initially started with. When Enemy of the State came out, who wasn't a little bit edgy? But are we over the issues, or are we over them? Let's just get to the flying cars already.
Nevertheless, the question needs to be asked (again and again because our attention spans are apparently getting shorter) Are there symptoms of the future that we simply cannot afford to be apathetic towards? Is there a limit to how blas¨¦ we can, or should, become?
Technology has to be one of the most referenced subjects in contemporary society and this includes contemporary art. All around us artists are referring to it, using it, abusing it, praising it, complaining about it.
Phillip Chen is part of a wave of artists alluding to the social effects of technology in their work. Commenting on the future, he directs his audience to think about what it holds, and whether it really will be all it's cracked up to be.
While the trend these days would seem to be for contemporary artists to step away from oil and canvas, a medium more associated with days past, Chen ironically uses it to his advantage. The scenes in his paintings are unmistakably based on those of old masters Rembrandt's Anatomy Lesson, The Last Supper, The Last Judgment etc
In Chen's versions, however, a white sheet covers all figures, rendering them lifeless. Where there once stood individuals, ghost-like forms have replaced them. A laptop computer, a sign of the times, glares triumphantly out at the viewer, having escaped, perhaps even having somehow instigated the blanketing of everything around it.
"It's quite funny when I think of the old masterpieces how I can connect them with the world, full of new technology," says Chen. "I'd rather call my work a recreation something like a reconsideration of those old masterpieces because they are pretty well-known and people can identify straight away with them."
The themes and imagery in Chen's work are, in his mind, directly related to an event in the artist's childhood, "years ago" in China. At the time, says the artist, "everywhere was shut shops were shut, the library was shut" The temple was also closed and had signs on the door forbidding entry.
"I just, you know, like a naughty little boy, went over the fence and went inside," recalls Chen, donning a sheepish grin. The inside of the temple was in disrepair, but according to the artist's memory, there were five hundred life-size statues of Buddha, all covered with a sheet of fabric. "Each statue has its own different personality, its different character, but once they were all covered up, the feeling's totally different." It was not until his recent works were completed that Chen realised the connection between his childhood memory and his paintings of the draped masterpieces.
Chen subtly attributes the demise of interpersonal relations and lack of individuality to the invasion of technology, specifically that of computer technology and many would argue this case along side of him. "What I am thinking of is everybody's got a different character, personality. But once you take that off, what does everyone look like?"
This thought process is portrayed in his works clearly. Each figure in these "recreated masterpieces" becomes simply an object. Any detail or emotion in the figures becomes obsolete. Much like the Buddhist statues, individuals meld into one form, united by the drapery that covers them. We experience a taste of the possibly bland direction that contemporary society is heading in. Individual traits are forfeited as we become numbers on screens and we submit ourselves into the realm of mass communication. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing.
In such a society as ours, it is hard to criticise the luxuries that modern times have afforded us. Those of us with mobiles "simply couldn't imagine life without one, daaaahling," and "why go out when you can order anything, and meet anyone, without having to change out of your flannelette pajamas?" While Chen is hesitant to refer to his paintings as critiques, he does concede that it is a word that may certainly apply, depending on the viewer. Any reaction is, after all, a good reaction. He states, "My works come together as a criticism to modern technology Actually, I think even criticism is too strong a word. I'd rather say a comment."
"I don't believe that the new technology can, like some people say, necessarily improve life," continues the artist, "especially with the Internet. It's quite exciting, but to be honest, I don't like it. Already you can see something happening
"I can quite easily, through the Internet and chat rooms, talk to someone in another corner of the world, but I don't know who's living next door. People are now getting more and more like we live close together, we work close together, but we live with such a distance between us. You don't know people in the street, and even people in the same office- I think it's ridiculous."
With their modest concoction of technology, history, memory and identity, the paintings of Phillip Chen are as elusive as they are irresistible. One hit, and like a junkie, you keep coming back for more. They seem to cry out for interpretation, even over-interpretation, as they hang on the studio walls. Their cries echo those of the figures beneath each white sheet and we should probably listen to what they are saying.