n the occasion of the exhibition at the Museo di Palazzo Grimani, we interviewed Mao Xuhui, one of the most influential figures in contemporary Chinese art.
Contemporary Chinese art has become increasingly visible on the international stage, yet opportunities to explore the creative vision of its leading figures in depth remain rare. The exhibition Mao Xuhui: Emergence of the Patriarch at Venice’s Palazzo Grimani offers just such an occasion, presenting 43 works that span fifty years of Mao Xuhui’s influential career. A key figure in China’s avant-garde, Mao’s art reflects a complex dialogue between tradition and innovation, personal experience and collective history. In this interview, Mao Xuhui shares insights into his artistic journey, influences, and the emotional and cultural layers that shape his work.
A retrospective that allows for an in-depth reading of your highly distinctive artistic career, where your gaze towards the past, expressed through the eyes of the present, is clear. Which models have most influenced your career?
Since I began studying painting, nearly fifty years have passed; in each period of my life, different artistic references have influenced me, layering into a comprehensive influence. If I had to list them, I’d say that during my student years, Cézanne had a profound impact on me; after graduation, Munch and Picasso became strong influences. Cézanne’s concept of form still accompanies me: his works can seem enigmatic, and only in recent years have I truly understood his approach. He spent his life painting works others found hard to decipher – this leaves an indelible impression. At the end of my studies, around 1982–83, I was working on my graduation project; at that time, I saw works of German Expressionism and a Munch solo show in Beijing and Kunming. This had a huge impact on me, like a powerful calling. Through Munch and German Expressionism, I felt I could finally begin to create. Munch addressed issues we felt were urgent: aspects of being human, suffering, life and death, depression, loneliness, fear. Inner storms invisible to the eye but experienced by all. This inner truth is the key to creation. Munch could reveal what lies deep in human experience: for me, he remains a reference point. When I lack sensitivity or life seems dull, I think of his works, leaf through his catalogues, and recall the emotion of seeing his originals. Picasso, for me, represents many things. He was incredibly gifted, mastering academic techniques young, and once he entered modernity, he showed inexhaustible richness in transformation. His creative freedom, in practice and spirit, has always encouraged me: when I feel discouraged or uninspired, I think of him and regain energy. Cézanne pursued form with determination, but the core of his thinking was totality: not focusing on details. This can disorient those with academic training, as we’re used to painting details; Cézanne worked from the whole. This is the model I follow today: always keep the overall vision of the painting, controlling it from the totality. For these reasons, these three artists have had a profound influence on me.
How would you define your visual language?
Honestly, I’m not a formalist: I believe art must express something, not just observe the world superficially, like the changing light and colour of Impressionism, but focus on inner transformations, the light of the soul. I seek, from my life experience, the most suitable expressive method: whether in colour, brushwork, image construction, or figure deformation. Of course, deformation must arise naturally from genuine inner feeling, not as a formal exercise; it must be based on deep experience and, from there, find the most fitting form of expression. This language is not definitive: the way we live and perceive the world changes, and even with the same theme, the depth of experience leads to different results. For me, expressing inner truth is the priority; style comes after. In the 1980s, I called this search for authenticity “New Figuration”: I believed, and still do, that form can generate an invisible force.
Your visual evolution has been accompanied by a thematic evolution. How much of your past and your life remains imprinted in your works? And what is your relationship with the cultural identity and collective memory of your country?
All my works retain traces of life: some are momentary impressions, others stem from life’s harsh blows: life, death. At my age, like Munch, I’ve experienced the loss of family and friends; through art, I try to process grief, and in the process of expression, I find a form of personal elevation. In the 1980s, works like Couple in the Concrete Room or Two People in the Concrete Room expressed feelings tied to family life. Living together brings many problems: conflict, misunderstanding, differences. At the time, I had no experience or education in this. Those works speak of an emotion hard to define, but very real. The Black and White Scissors series from 2007, on the other hand, is my response to my father’s death: at that time, I couldn’t use colour, but I wanted to express myself through painting, so I worked only in black and white. Some of these works are in the exhibition. As for cultural identity and collective memory, I don’t seek them intentionally. I am Chinese, I live in China: daily life… politics, society, tradition, contemporaneity, naturally enters my work. I hope that viewers, even international ones, can perceive through my works what it means to live in a place unknown to them.
Through your works, what kind of China and what kind of contemporary emerge? I want to depict a modern China.
We don’t live in antiquity, nor in the nineteenth century. Our country became a modern state in 1912. I was born in the 1950s and have lived through complex transformations: the revolutions of the 1960s, the Reform and Opening of the late 1970s, the globalization of the 1990s, and the post-pandemic period. Each phase has left traces and influences in my work. However, I don’t see myself as an absolute representative of my country, nor do I pursue a “conceptual” idea of China: what prevails is personal experience. I want to stress that I am a human being living in a specific region of China; my parents’ lives, like mine, belong to this place. This too is a fragment of national history.
How do you choose the subjects of your paintings? Are they portraits of real or imaginary people? Where do you draw your inspiration from?
I always seek, starting from my life experience, the most suitable expressive method. Some subjects arise from momentary impressions, others from significant events, like the life and death of my family members. For example, my parents brought me to Yunnan as a newborn, and they spent their entire lives there until their deaths. They came from Chongqing, but due to the revolution, they moved to Yunnan, changing our destiny. The Black and White Scissors series from 2007 is a response to my father’s death. In general, my subjects and inspiration mainly derive from my life experience and inner feelings.
