Yang Ermin: The master of polychrome wash painting

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Published on: 17 March 2025

By: Hervé Lancelin

Category: Art Critique

Reading time: 10 minutes

Yang Ermin is an artist who destabilizes with his ability to blend contrasts between millennial tradition and modernity. He has become the leading figure in polychrome wash painting, transforming an ancestral technique into a perfectly contemporary pictorial language.

Listen to me carefully, you bunch of snobs, Yang Ermin is not a minor player in the contemporary art scene. He is the kind of artist who destabilizes with his ability to blend contrasts: millennial tradition and modernity, eternal Orient and frenetic West, immutable landscapes and vibrant still lifes. Born in 1966 in Quyang, in the Chinese province of Hebei, this painter has become the undisputed leader of polychrome wash painting, transforming an ancestral technique into a perfectly contemporary pictorial language.

I could talk to you for hours about his prodigious technique, his skill in marrying ink and color on xuan paper, his unique way of applying successive layers until the wash painting fragments and appears worn in his most recent works. But that would be missing the point. For what makes Yang Ermin great is his ability to engage with the history of art while remaining anchored in his time.

Yang Ermin’s strength lies in his philosophical relationship with color, which fits into a profound reflection on the temporality of art. Here, I must invoke Henri Bergson, whose conception of time as pure duration wonderfully illuminates the work of our Chinese artist. For Bergson, real time is not this spatialized time, divided into successive moments like the points of a line, but an indivisible continuity, a perpetual flux where past and present constantly interpenetrate. Isn’t this exactly what Yang Ermin achieves in his painting? By reintroducing color into traditional Chinese wash painting, he does not merely modernize a millennial technique; he creates a pictorial space-time where the most vivid present merges indissociably with the most distant past.

Consider his landscapes. They are not simple representations of mountains and rivers as Chinese painters have produced for centuries. They are mental spaces where time expands and contracts. “Time is invention or it is nothing at all,” wrote Bergson in Creative Evolution [1]. Yang Ermin seems to have made this maxim his own: each of his works is a temporal invention. His vibrant colors do not seek to reproduce nature faithfully, but to capture this Bergsonian “pure duration”, this perpetual movement of life that escapes all mechanical measure.

Look closely at his compositions where forms seem to simultaneously emerge and dissolve, where the fragmented wash painting evokes this continuous flux of consciousness of which the French philosopher spoke. “Our past follows us, constantly enriching itself with the present it gathers along the way,” Bergson wrote again [2]. Yang Ermin’s works visually embody this conception of time: they accumulate the traces of an ancestral pictorial gesture while absorbing the chromatic vivacity of our time.

And here comes the second concept that seems fundamental to me to understand Yang Ermin: the notion of balance between representation and abstraction found in the aesthetic thought of Étienne Souriau. This French philosopher of the 20th century, in his work The Different Modes of Existence [3], develops the idea that art establishes singular beings, endowed with their own existence, neither totally abstract nor simply mimetic.

When observing Yang Ermin’s still lifes, one is struck by this constant tension between the recognizable and the elusive. His floral compositions, his arrangements of fruits and everyday objects perpetually oscillate between figuration and abstraction. Souriau would speak here of a “superexistence” of the work of art, which surpasses its simple materiality to reach a superior mode of being. “Art is the great intensifier of existence,” he affirmed [4]. And isn’t this exactly what Yang Ermin does with his colored wash paintings? He intensifies the very existence of the objects he represents, conferring upon them a presence that transcends their daily banality.

This intensification in him occurs through a subtle derealization of the represented subject. His flowers, his vases, his landscapes are recognizable, yes, but they are transfigured by a pictorial treatment that tears them away from their ordinary existence. As Souriau wrote, “art does not reproduce the visible, it makes visible” [5], a formula generally attributed to Paul Klee, but which perfectly illustrates Yang Ermin’s approach. His compositions do not slavishly reproduce the real; they make visible another dimension of this real, more intense, more vibrant, more essential.

But I can already hear you, with your usual cynicism: “Another Chinese artist recycling old recipes with a zest of modernity to seduce Western collectors!” You are mistaken. Yang Ermin is not posturing; he is engaged in an authentic search for a personal pictorial language that can transcend cultural boundaries without denying its roots.

His training is revealing of this ambition: after studying at the Nankin Academy of Arts, he continued his journey in Japan, where he obtained a doctorate in aesthetics and literature. This dual cultural anchoring allowed him to develop a singular vision, deeply nourished by the Chinese tradition and open to Western influences. He is intimately familiar with Monet, Cézanne, Van Gogh, but never imitates them slavishly. He dialogues with them as he dialogues with the masters of traditional Chinese painting.

It is this ability to engage in dialogue that makes him a truly contemporary artist. In a world of art often polarized between a nostalgic attachment to traditions and a frantic race for novelty, Yang Ermin forges a middle path, fertile, inventive. His painting is that rare place where time does not flow linearly, but unfolds in superimposed layers, where past and present coexist without neutralizing each other.

Let us return to Bergsonian philosophy to better grasp this phenomenon. For Bergson, memory is not a simple reservoir of memories from which we occasionally draw; it is constitutive of our present experience, constantly coloring our current perception. Similarly, Yang Ermin’s art does not cite the past: it brings it to life in the present of creation. For him, traditional wash painting is not a technique to be preserved as a relic, but a living language to be enriched, transformed.

“The past and the present are not two successive moments, but two elements that coexist: the present is the active element and the past, the element that acts,” wrote Bergson [6]. This active coexistence of past and present is at the heart of Yang Ermin’s work. When he introduces brilliant colors into his wash paintings, he does not break with tradition: he makes it breathe differently, gives it a new breath, a new life.

This vitality is particularly perceptible in his landscapes. Unlike traditional Chinese representations where mountains often appear in an ethereal haze, bathed in dark and monochromatic tones, Yang Ermin’s landscapes vibrate with intense colors. But these colors are not artificially superimposed on the forms; they emerge organically from the wash painting, as if they had always been there, in potential, waiting to be revealed by the artist’s hand.

Here again, Souriau’s thought helps us understand Yang Ermin’s approach. For the French philosopher, the artist is less an ex nihilo creator than an “instaurer” who brings forth forms already virtually present in the material. “The artist dialogues with his material, and it responds to him,” he wrote [7]. Yang Ermin dialogues with ink, xuan paper, colored pigments, and from this dialogue are born works that seem to have always existed, so necessary and evident do they appear once realized.

This evidence, however, should not make us forget the technical complexity of his work. Yang Ermin is a virtuoso who perfectly masters the traditional tools of Chinese painting, the brush, ink, paper, while pushing them towards unexplored territories. His technique of applying wash painting in successive layers, which eventually fragment and appear worn, visually translates this Bergsonian conception of time as a continuous accumulation of experiences.

But technique is never an end in itself for Yang Ermin. It is in the service of a quest for harmony, a subtle balance between forms and colors that characterizes his entire work. As he himself says: “I seek the balance between forms and colors to achieve harmony in my compositions.” This search for harmony is not merely formal; it has a profound existential dimension, which once again joins Bergson’s thought on consciousness as a continuous and harmonious flux.

For the French philosopher, authentic consciousness is not fragmented into separate perceptions, feelings, or ideas, but constitutes a continuous melody where each note blends into the next. Similarly, Yang Ermin’s compositions do not simply juxtapose forms and colors: they blend them into a fluid movement that evokes this melodic continuity of which Bergson spoke.

There is something profoundly musical in Yang Ermin’s painting, a rhythmic quality that transcends mere visuality. His works are not grasped in a single glance; they unfold over time, inviting prolonged contemplation that echoes Bergson’s conception of time as a lived experience rather than a succession of instants.

This temporal dimension is reinforced by the fragmented, almost worn aspect of his recent wash paintings. The colors seem to have been eroded by time, revealing underlying strata, as if the work contained within itself its own history. Here again, Bergson’s thought enlightens us: “Duration is the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as it advances” [8]. Yang Ermin’s works literally embody this “gnawing” of time, this continuous erosion which, paradoxically, enriches rather than impoverishes.

At the same time, Souriau’s theory of “different modes of existence” offers us an additional key to understanding the ontological plurality of Yang Ermin’s works. For the French philosopher, artistic objects possess a plural existence: they exist physically as material objects, aesthetically as bearers of sensible values, symbolically as vectors of cultural significations, and really as entities endowed with their own power.

Yang Ermin’s paintings fully manifest this existential plurality. They are at once physical objects (ink and pigments on xuan paper), aesthetic compositions (play of colors and forms), heirs to a millennial tradition (Chinese wash painting), and autonomous presences that seem to radiate a life of their own. As Souriau wrote, “the accomplished work of art has a kind of sovereign presence” [9]. This sovereignty is palpable in Yang Ermin’s best creations, which impose themselves on the viewer with a quiet authority.

What is particularly interesting about this artist is his ability to navigate between different pictorial traditions without ever falling into superficial eclecticism. He does not juxtapose Chinese and Western elements; he integrates them organically into a coherent language. This integration recalls Bergson’s conception of creative evolution, where each new state preserves something of the previous states while transforming them.

Yang Ermin’s painting is truly evolutionary in this Bergsonian sense: it preserves the essence of the Chinese wash painting tradition while enriching it with new contributions, notably color, which transform it profoundly without denaturing it. It is a painting that honors its roots while resolutely projecting itself into the future.

One might see in this approach a form of conservatism, a desire to preserve a threatened tradition at all costs. But this would be to misunderstand the radical nature of his artistic project. Yang Ermin does not preserve the wash painting tradition as a specimen in formalin; he brings it to life, makes it breathe, evolve. He embodies what Bergson called the “élan vital”, this creative impulse that traverses the entire evolution of life and expresses itself with particular intensity in art.

Yang Ermin is much more than a clever synthesizer of Eastern and Western traditions. He is an artist who thinks deeply about the temporality of his art, who inscribes each of his works in a fecund dialogue between past and present, between memory and creation. His painting is a visual meditation on Bergsonian duration, on this indivisible continuity of lived time that transcends mere chronological succession.

At the same time, his works institute sensible presences that surpass their simple materiality, embodying this “superexistence” of which Souriau spoke, this intensification of being that is the hallmark of true art. Between Bergson’s temporal fluidity and Souriau’s ontological plurality, Yang Ermin traces a singular path in contemporary art, a path that belongs only to him but invites us all to follow.

So, the next time you come across a work by Yang Ermin in a gallery or museum, stop. Take your time. Let yourself be impressed by his vibrant colors, by his compositions that are both structured and fluid. And perhaps then you will feel what Bergson called “pure duration” and Souriau “instituted presence”, this ineffable quality that makes great works of art not mere objects to be contemplated, but experiences to be lived fully.

For that is what is at stake with Yang Ermin: not admiring from a distance a virtuoso technique or a clever blend of influences, but entering a pictorial space-time where our own consciousness can blossom, expand, merge into this continuous flux of forms and colors that is the signature of this great contemporary Chinese artist.

  1. Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, Paris, PUF, 1907.
  2. Henri Bergson, Matter and Memory, Paris, PUF, 1896.
  3. Étienne Souriau, The Different Modes of Existence, Paris, PUF, 1943.
  4. Étienne Souriau, The Correspondence of Arts, Paris, Flammarion, 1969.
  5. Étienne Souriau, Vocabulary of Aesthetics, Paris, PUF, 1990.
  6. Henri Bergson, Mind-Energy, Paris, PUF, 1919.
  7. Étienne Souriau, The Future of Aesthetics, Paris, Alcan, 1929.
  8. Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, Paris, PUF, 1907.
  9. Étienne Souriau, The Different Modes of Existence, Paris, PUF, 1943.

杨佴旻:多彩水墨的艺术大师

最初发布时间: 17 日3月 2025

作者: 埃尔韦·朗斯兰(Hervé Lancelin)

阅读时间: 12 分钟