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Few within Hong Kong’s art circles are unfamiliar with the name Gaylord Chan. Despite having never properly picked up a paintbrush until the age of 42, Chan has gone on to become one of the most prominent artists in the city, producing works with his signatures bold colors and abstract shapes that come to life on his canvases. Now, at the age of 92 and putting on yet another exhibition—“Painting at 90”— Chan is a living example who proves that learning never ends.
Always up for a new challenge, Chan turned to digital paintings after his failing health deterred him from working on larger oil paintings, soon mastering the usage of Microsoft Paint to produce groundbreaking works. In recent years, he has experimented with yet another medium: laser-cut-wood painting, which was featured in the exhibition at Hanart TZ Gallery. In an interview with ArtAsiaPacific ahead of his show, the artist discusses his creative processes, his admiration of Picasso and his philosophy toward teaching art.
You’ve stressed the importance of the use of colors and layering in your art practice. What are some works on display in this upcoming exhibition that you feel best represents your passion for colors and layers?
That would be Half Yellow Moon (1989) and Seven Teeth (1999). When you first look at Half Yellow Moon, you see red, blue and yellow hues. But these three colors together produce an effect that transcends the colors as they are, in that they become a new “phenomenon” of another color, and gives birth to a fourth color—that’s the “synergy” of color. That’s the importance of color to me. Usually, when one uses colors, the red feels like red, and blue just feels blue. . . Without layering, the potential within the colors cannot be unleashed.
As for Seven Teeth, usually when I paint, around 80 percent of my time is spent building up the colors in the backdrop—the background color. If you look closely, the form is very casual—[only] the last 20 percent is spent on the finishing. Again, without layering, you can’t create that sense of space and dimension. This is the power of layers.
In 2005, you said that you mainly used Microsoft Paint to produce your work, even though it takes you around 30 hours to finish a painting. Yet, now at the age of 92, you’ve produced 400 digital paintings in the past decade. Your upcoming exhibition will feature a range of your works from earlier oil paintings to your latest “computer paintings” and “laser-cut-wood-paintings.” Can you give us tell us a bit more about these laser-cut-wood artworks?
I first create a draft using Microsoft Paint. Then, on a block of thin wood adhered onto another block of thicker wood, Hanart TZ Gallery would ask someone to use a laser cutter to carve the outline of my draft onto the thinner piece of wood, creating a “ditch.” [Gaylord Chan’s wife] Josephine Chow would proceed to paint the colors onto it; she has a good grasp of colors, so I can completely trust her—she knows how I work with layers.
That’s how the laser-cut-wood paintings are made. It’s the first time I’ve tried this, and I’m quite satisfied with the results. I have to thank Hanart TZ Gallery—they came up with the idea, and I like how the two finished works turned out—the effects produced by the colors lived up to my expectations. It’s a new attempt; as an artist, you should not be controlled by the medium, it should be the other way round. I achieved my goal in this sense. The viewers were overwhelmingly positive with regards to how these pieces turned out, and that makes me especially happy.
What does your creative process for digital paintings look like these days? Have you experimented with other digital mediums other than Microsoft Paint in your latest works?
Apart from Paint, I have not used anything else. The combination of different tools in Paint already provides unlimited possibilities, and I still haven’t tapped into all of them, so for now I do not want to experiment with others.
In a way, it’s also that I have few other alternatives. After my stroke, a quarter of my left lung was removed. Working on larger oil paintings is too physically demanding, so I draw with Paint instead, and it still satisfies my requirements. I see painting as part of my life, and so long as I am able to keep doing it, that’s fine with me. Apart from the many possible combinations in Paint, you can change the background color from yellow to blue with just the press of the button. But in real life, with larger paintings, it would require much more work, and you need a lot of time and color. With Paint you won’t be wasting any materials at all, and it’s very environmentally friendly. Different effects are produced with different combinations of colors, resulting in new color sensations. Paint brings me considerable satisfaction.
Installation view of GAYLORD CHAN’s “Painting at 90,” Hanart TZ Gallery, Hong Kong, 2017. Photo by Kitmin Lee. Courtesy Hanart TZ Gallery.
Looking at your work for this exhibition, apart from the changes in medium, what are some of the changes—or evolutions—you’ve observed in your own work? What have you learned over the past few years that particularly struck you or influenced you, whether in arts or in life?
Many painters are always pursuing breakthroughs—but that’s pointless. Art is not about breakthrough, it’s about expressing the feelings in your heart and conveying it in your work, and if others can see that from your pieces, that’s already great. When we talk about that “metamorphosis,” it’s just that when you’ve painted enough and you’ve reached a certain level, and you have certain needs, and you make new attempts to adjust your needs. People then call that a breakthrough. But there’s no need to force any changes so as to deliberately achieve a breakthrough, that’s a completely wrong approach. I don’t actively seek breakthroughs, but when I was working on West Kowloon Bamboo Theatre [which is a performance program that promotes Cantonese opera] and made flags for them, everyone hailed it as a breakthrough, because using acrylic paint on silk produced an unprecedented effect. If you have to call it a metamorphosis, I guess you could—that’s different from anything else I’ve done in the past.
It seems like every couple of years, something major happens to my health—stroke, lung cancer, heart attack—I feel rather helpless, and I’ve started to question the role of humanity within the universe. My conclusion is that we’re just miniscule by-products of the Big Bang. If the universe were a body, humans are just the size of germs inside the smallest toe. That inspires me when I work on art—I feel even less restrained. My worldview has broadened, and so there’s even more space for creativity—I’m no longer confined by any unnecessary boundaries. Humans also need to recognize this: that the universe is not created for us. We’re only its by-products.
You’ve said that you are excited by Pablo Picasso’s work, and there are clear traces of the abstract artist’s style in your own pieces, from as early as your coursework in the University of Hong Kong’s Department of Extramural Studies in 1968 to later works, such as Over Toast (1999). You also mentioned Picasso in an interview with Tobias Berger in ArtAsiaPacific. What is it about Picasso’s work that inspires you and how has that changed over the years, in both your perception of his work and the effect he has on you?
When I first came across Picasso’s work, I felt that he was a very candid person. Whatever he sees and feels, he will say it in a very straightforward manner. As an artist, the right thing to do is to express yourself directly—it’s not contrived or pretentious. He’s also not a person that strives for breakthroughs—when he puts something on a canvas, there is a sense of necessity. For example, if you are working on a painting about a train station, and you think about the ticket one must purchase before taking a train—would you paint a ticket onto the painting? It’ll take you forever and you may still not be able to do it: why don’t you just directly paste the ticket onto the canvas? There needs to be a sense of necessity—it needs to be direct.
A work must be sincere, candid and honest. I really admire his candid attitude. So later, when I paint, I would also say what’s on my mind—that’s probably his influence on me. His paintings have this quality to them, and that’s why it’s infectious.
Installation view of GAYLORD CHAN’s “Painting at 90,” Hanart TZ Gallery, Hong Kong, 2017. Photo by Kitmin Lee. Courtesy Hanart TZ Gallery.
Politics and art in Hong Kong are becoming increasingly intertwined. You once said Hong Kong is free, but has “man-made rules”—can you elaborate on what they are? What challenges do you think Hong Kong may face in terms of artistic freedom as Beijing’s control is increasingly felt?
Politics and art are actually two separate things; they aren’t interrelated. Art is an expression of mental activity—when it’s delivered in words, it’s called literature; when it’s carried in sound, it’s called music; and when it’s a combination of sound and motion, that’s dance. These relate to a person’s emotions, and politics have no control over the freedom of thought.
I don’t really feel like Beijing has exerted a lot of control over Hong Kong—it’s just that there’s a chilling effect, and there’s self-censorship. But no one can control the thoughts of the people. Throughout thousands of years in history, there are many who have tried to do this, but they have not succeeded. Emperor Qin burned books and buried scholars, and he still failed to do it. Creative freedom will not be governed by politics—there’s no need to worry about that.
Culture Corner Art Academy, which you established with your wife Josephine Chow Suk-fan, has educated Hong Kong’s young artists, including Ho Sin Tung and Nicole Wong. Having observed artists across generations here, what do you think are the biggest differences between artists over the decades with regards to the subject matter and style of their art, as well as their ideology or approach to it?
One of our founding principles has been that teaching should not confine students and direct them toward one path—doing so would bring their development to a standstill. Teachers should use their experience to assist students to solve problems, rather than influence the students’ paths with their own style or ideology. The styles of the students who are from our school are all very free and uninhibited.
This is what touches other people’s hearts—and that’s what makes Culture Corner Art Academy different from other places. In the past, in other art institutions, students would be told, for instance, that the colors are mixed incorrectly, or should not be paired together. But whether they match should not be judged by the teacher, it should be decided by the students. It’s their call.
GAYLORD CHAN in front of his painting Net of Pyramid at the group exhibition “City Vibrance,” Hong Kong Museum of Art, Hong Kong, 1992. Courtesy the artist.
You did not start painting until you were 42, and once said that, even as an artist, “it is of utmost importance that you manage to earn a living.” Do you see your life as an artist and your career in the telecom industry as separate, and how do you reconcile the two?
Back then, when I was an electronic engineer, my work methods were disciplined and strict, down to the analysis and research, and this habit meant that when I started painting, I already was equipped with this basic training. [My career and my life as an artist] supplemented each other in a way. For example, when I’m painting something that’s 4 × 8 inches, I will first think about the layout of the canvas. I will think it through—the painting is not something that will materialize out of thin air. There are certain steps, and my processes are clearer, so there are fewer mistakes along the way.
What do you think are the advantages and disadvantages of pursuing a full-time career as an artist in Hong Kong these days?
In Hong Kong, the advantage is that the city has produced few world-class artists, so in the past when a bunch of us will sit around chatting, someone will joke and say that it’s easy to make your name as an artist here—all you need to do is beat one or two artists and you’ll already be more famous than them. So long as you are the real deal, it’s easy for you to stand out.
But in how many households in Hong Kong will you see a painting hanging on the wall? Hong Kong does not have the habit or atmosphere of appreciating art. You hear about what it’s like overseas, where the family activity is bringing their children to museums to look at art. Here, parents will bring their kids to karaoke rather than museums.
I read that you’re a fan of New Age musicians such as Kitaro and Tangerine Dream. Have any of your works been inspired by music or has music ever had any influence on your art?
At the time, with the emergence of electronic music, there was the creation of a new kind of sound. Kitaro is the master and pioneer of this in Japan, and Tangerine Dream has the same status in Europe. When I listen to the music, I’m brought to a realm that has more freedom.
Working on Homing (1992) was a particularly memorable experience—I was listening to Enya while painting. It’s not in the current exhibition, because I’ve given it to my wife. Looking back at the works I’ve produced throughout the course of my life, I feel that this is one of the canvases worth looking at—apart from those I’ve mentioned just now. It’s right up there with Half Yellow Moon.
The interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
Karen Cheung is ArtAsiaPacific’s Hong Kong desk editor.
Gaylord Chan’s “Painting at 90” is on view at Hanart TZ Gallery, Hong Kong, until September 2, 2017.
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