The Subtle Sculptural Language of Yuyu Yang
“My sculptures in general, and stainless steel sculptures in particular, harmonize man and his environment spiritually, mentally and physically; this is why I call my sculptures ‘lifescapes’ instead of ‘environmental sculptures.'”
From the early fifties into the seventies, Yang’s work evolved from traditional expressions to abstract, spiritual and simple forms. Yuyu Yang has worked with paper, cloth, wood, clay, bronze, marble, iron and stainless steel. However, he works now almost entirely with stainless steel, which he feels simplifies his ideas perfectly. The thematic symbols of dragon and phoenix – emblems of male and female, sky and earth, and other essential pairings in Chinese philosophy appear frequently. The mirror-like surfaces of the stainless steel unite his sculpture with the environment. Merging environment and sculpture became the central philosophy in Yang’s work from this time forward.
The underlying theme of Yang’s production remains the same: expressing human life with simplicity, bravely achieved out of modern materials and ideas. In the process, he has – single-handedly – created a new contemporary sculpture which has become recognized throughout the world.
Where many artists of our time derive their inspiration from other art (or money), Yang’s true source is nature itself. Even if his primary material, stainless steel, seems more industrial than stone or wood or clay, he has not cut himself off from a deeply committed sense of the environment and what it means. The bridge between art and nature is form. Commenting on “Cosmic Encounter”, Yang notes, “It is shape that brings all things together and sends them apart.” The relationship between square and round, convex and concave, or empty and solid is an erotic one in the old sense of the term, as an expression of two forces brought together. The synthesis is achieved through Yang’s ability to trace the relationship between shapes, lines, the curve of a planet’s path and the curve of a Chinese roof and other similar motifs.
Born in Taiwan, Yang’s education and early career had an unusual international dimension, particularly for those of his generation. He studied at the Tokyo Art Academy, where he learned architecture, as well as at FuJen Catholic University in Beijing and Taiwan Normal University in Taipei. As a reward for helping the Catholic Church relocate FuJen University to Taiwan, he was offered a trip to Rome, where he remained for three years until 1966 to study art. In Italy his paintings and sculptures were widely exhibited, and he won gold and silver medals at the Olimpiade d’Arte Cultura in 1966.
After returning to Taiwan, he kept up the global aspect of his career, completing commissions for major sculptures in Japan, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Singapore and Hong Kong. Americans had their first glimpse of his talent in 1973, when his profoundly symbolic “East West Gate” was unveiled in front of Pei’s Orient Overseas Building in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district. A year later in Spokane, Washington, his “Spring Again Over the Good Earth” appeared at the World’s Fair. Since that time, his reputation here in the United States as well as in Europe and Asia has grown, making him without question the pre-eminent contemporary Chinese sculptor. At home, where he is recognized as a pioneer not only in sculpture but also in the use of lasers in art, he assured his place in Taiwan’s art history by establishing the Yuyu Yang Lifescape Sculpture Museum, a spectacular survey of his career from “The Philosopher”, which brought Yang one of his first awards in Paris in 1959, to the most recent work.
In a book about Yang published by the Taiwan Museum of Art, there is a stunning photo of the sculptor sitting cross-legged in front of a monumental statue of the Buddha on which he is putting the finishing touches. In the foreground his wife kneels, nursing his son. The gold and sepia tones of the photograph, the archaic splendor of the statue Yang is carving as well as the ancient scroll behind him, all belie the date of the photograph: 1955. It is as though we have a sudden glimpse of the intimate world of the artist in China in Yang’s beloved Wei dynasty when the formal vocabulary that is the source of so much of Yang’s early sculpture was itself in its infancy. Aside from the usual curiosity that a document like this raises about the context of the artist’s studio and home, the type of art and decorations around him, the natural light flooding a tall window behind him, the spare but elegant traditional living quarters and the old wicker armchair and tatami-style mats of the home, the photo serves a deeper purpose in the study of Yang’s work and career. It underscores the sense of timelessness in Yang’s thought, even to the point of presenting an apparent anachronism. Here is an artist we can meet and greet ourselves, and his hand is finishing an “ancient” Buddhist statue in a traditional Chinese home filled with the basic tools and art of an earlier epoch. Far from being a nostalgic evocation of antiquity – a hokey attempt to invoke the atmosphere of the past – the photo shows Yang participating in the life of the earlier time and in the continuing tradition of sculpture as an expression of both metaphysics and of materials. Nothing could present the impressive “rootedness” of Yang as an artist and an individual better than his photo. It shows the tranquility of traditional Chinese home life, and across a barely perceptible threshold it depicts a studio where the artist works on his individual dreams. Who would guess, looking at this peaceful and timeless scene, that Yang’s work would end up attracting a following in New York, Tokyo, Paris, the Middle East, the American Midwest, virtually around the world. In an era when multicultural currents are moving through the intellectual world, and environmental concern is permeating the political and artistic world, Yang’s work is more timely than ever.
Charles A. Riley
Excerpt of Simply Put
City University of New York, 1994